In It So Hard
by im.sorry.pookie
Summary: A new job promotion sets Daryl Dixon and Carol Peletier on new and exciting directions. He's new in town and needs a place to stay. She has a space for rent. What happens when their worlds collide is something neither of them ever imagined. A story of new beginnings, hope and most of all what two lonely souls crave above everything, love.
1. Hard Work and Dedication

Hi! :D

This is my first Caryl story and I must say first how much I adore every single story I have read here! My good friend Robin inspired the title for this. She is amazing and the first fellow Caryler I befriended when I started up my fan page on Facebook. I have been hesitant to upload. I've been writing for years [Harry Potter Fanfiction] but have never published anything for others to read. But, I love this pairing so much and have read so many wonderful stories; I've decided I may as well! xD Thank you for giving this a go. Any comments, reviews and anything, is much appreciated!

I do NOT own any of these characters or The Walking Dead. I am merely playing with them for a bit. ;)

Chapter One

Hard Work and Dedication

"What the hell ya expectin' me ta do, Merle? Turn it down? Fuck all that. I done worked too damn hard an' too damn long ta fuckin' throw it back in his face. They picked me. Don't kno' why, but they did. Don't see what the fuckin' issue is, seein' as ya locked up for the next four fuckin' years. Ya lucky I told ya cockamamy ass what my plans were ta begin with. Coulda left ya sittin' an' wonderin' where I gone ta…"

Daryl Dixon was pacing back and forth along his back porch, smoking a cigarette as he argued with his brother on the phone. It was the same conversation they had been having for two months now, ever since his older brother had been sentenced to spend the next mandatory four years behind bars for messing up one too many times.

"I'ma leave the trailer as it is. It's done fuckin' paid for, an' I told ya I'd keep up with the lot rent so's they don't tow it away. I didn't even hafta leave it for ya. I coulda done sold the piece o' crap an' say's worry 'bout findin' ya own pot ta piss in when they let's ya out."

He shook his head and took an aggravated drag.

"Do whatever ya feel like, don't giv' a shit, Merle. Haul it off when ya git out, hell, burn the fucker up, couldn't care fuckin' less. Ya don't like the neighbors; well they ain't too fond o' you neither."

Sitting back against the railing, he crushed out the cigarette into an old coffee tin which served as an ashtray for the back deck. With the cell phone pressed to his ear, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to his brother's opinion, once again, about Daryl's new job.

"Ain't no cock suckin' office detail, dickwad. I'ma be in charge o' the whole fuckin' facility. . . . . .Don't kno', Merle, maybe cause they's realizin' I've done fuckin' worked my ass off for 'em since I were jus' eighteen years old. . . . . .An' whose fault is that, brother? Yours! Couldn't keep away from the damn drugs, could ya? Always wantin' one more cookie from the cookie jar. .I ain't never did them shrooms on my own, ya put those in my food dipshit, givin' me pot brownies when I were jus' a . . .Weren't my problem ta babysit your lazy carcass no more, an' someone had ta pay the goddamn bills an' keep food in the fuckin' fridge ta feed your lazy ass an' feed them nasty ass diseased skanks ya always kept 'round here. . . . . . . . . Ain't matterin' none, Merle, I's already packed up an' ready ta relocate. . . . .Nah, don't kno' yet, ain't startin' till the plant opens at the beginnin' o' June – so, two months. . . . . . . Ya jus' do your fuckin' time an' work your fuckin' shit out, brother, ain't dicussin' this no more. Gave ya plenty o' chances ta straighten out, ya got what ya paid for in your greed this time, an' I ain't feelin' sorry for ya one damn bit. Ya wanted ta help them fool tweaker buddies ya were mixed up with make meth, well, look where it gotcha?"

Daryl lit another cigarette as he listened.

"Ain't Buckwheat, its Buckhead. That's where the plant is, stupid, Buckhead, Georgia. . . . .Yeah, been spendin' my weekends up there overseein' the last of the preparations. . . . .Well, s'posse I'ma try an' find a house ta rent or a room or some shit from someone in town. . . .Nah ain't wantin' ta buy 'til's I kno' I'ma do my job well enough ta wanna stick 'round an' they ain't gonna change they damn minds coss they tend ta shuffle folks whenever they damn well please. . . .We been over this a million times. . . .Mamet offered me the job an' I took it. Been workin' for Blake goin' on twenty-three years now an' I fuckin' earned it. . . . .Good lord, Merle, I told ya I'd keep money on your fuckin' account. When have I ever not? Shit, your pissin' me off."

He pushed away from the railing and started pacing again.

"My bank statement ain't non'ya business, jus' kno' I'll make sure ya have plenty o' cash for your fuckin' commodities. . . . .Meetin' with some lady t'morrow ta find out what they's got available in town. . . . . . Yeah, git ya ass ta count, call me back brother. Bye."

Daryl ended the call and sighed as he put his cell phone in his pocket. The angry red glow of his cigarette burned brightly as he inhaled a deep lungful of smoke. Talking to Merle always put him in a damn foul mood and this time was no fucking exception. He'd been wary of his job promotion at first, hell, uprooting all his things not knowing a single person in the no-name shithole he was moving to was adding an even bigger strain on his already frazzled nerves. Daryl Dixon liked familiarity, he enjoyed consistency, and change wasn't something he took too well. But he'd earned this new job. He'd bled for it over the years, and put his whole life against it to make something for himself. Putting the name Dixon and his daddy's reputation behind him as he painted a whole new canvass of just him and his accomplishments. The town no longer stared at him like he would blow up and stomp someone's ass just for crossing his path on the sidewalk. Daryl was a quiet man, a man who stayed away from trouble, that was until trouble found him and it was usually in the form of some stupid bullshit his brother got mixed up into.

Sure, some of the folks around still whispered and swapped gossip when things were dull and topics to discuss were limited. The white trash, good-for-nothing pieces of shit Dixon clan. Mama Dixon, Roxanne, done burned herself up with a bottle of wine and a cigarette, lazing around in bed too drunk to get up. Daddy Dixon, Earl, the town belligerent, starting brawls and beating the fuck out of people for no apparent reason other than he could. And oh, lookie there, Merle Dixon, the oldest boy, high on cocaine and strung out on crank and pills. Ain't they the top examples of our fine and established town. The youngest boy, Baby Dixon, looks like he has another black eye – Can't believe he's still in school; maybe he ain't as worthless as his kin.

Daryl had heard it all, he wasn't deaf and dumb like most of them had thought. Hard work right out of high school put an end to people and their trash talking. When his daddy finally left town and Merle rode off into the sunset right behind him a few years later, Daryl had been free. His brother came back from time to time, and during the instances his brother was there, the littlest Dixon boy had grown into a man and someone who had earned the respect of the people of the community. Wasn't too often one could grow out from under such a heavily coated tarnish of bad luck and a family name that brought nothing but disgust and loathing from the folks around you.

Merle had reappeared back into to his life permanently about two years ago. Preaching and going on about how he'd found God and changed his life because he saw the Lord after he witnessed their daddy get gunned down in a bar fight. Daryl figured Merle had found God during a boozed-up pill popping bender or some shit, and sure enough, not even a week went by and Merle was strung out on pills again. He'd let his brother move into his trailer but he sure as shit weren't gonna have him selling drugs out of his place. No way, no how. So between the comings and goings of his brother's druggie friends, were the late night poundings on the door of some half cocked skag flashing her pussy for a fix. Daryl hated these instances more than fucking anything else. He'd been putting up with his brother's whores for years and his daddy's too. They couldn't seem to comprehend that he wanted to vomit at the sight of them. Meth gave the really nasty ones green teeth like they had a thick slimy layer of lake algae coated on them. Most of them had needle marks and ugly purple veins with yellow pot marks, oozing some kind of diseased shit which made his stomach churn up bile into his mouth. Daryl flipped his shit one night when one of his brothers floozies had found her way into his bed, rubbing up on his cock just about to put her mouth on him. His dick went limp as soon as he woke up and he threw the dumb cunt out of his room by her hair, and he went ranting and raving on Merle. They had a tumble, and Merle ended up outside in a tent for a month. It didn't put an end to the whores coming and going but it did stop them from going into his room.

Then about six months ago his brother got caught up in some more shit and now his ass was in prison.

Dropping the butt into the coffee can and squinting his face up in disgust at the smell of burning filter, Daryl padded back inside his home. He had all his things in boxes, which wasn't very much at all, and everything else was staying if he could help it. He'd take his bed, his clothes, his hunting and camping gear, and his brothers Triumph. Oh, and his television, he was mighty attached to the thing, even though he didn't get much of a chance to use it as often as he pleased. And his laptop, which he had bought at the same time as his huge ass TV, because he enjoyed watching shit on YouTube.

A mewling sound met his attentive ears and he felt the silky feel of fur rubbing against his bare leg.

"Ain't'na leave ya behind neither, ol' boy."

Daryl stooped low to pick the feline up into his arms. The black furred tom had adopted him several years ago and Daryl never had the heart to send him away after he had made sure no one else was missing him. So they were a pair now, and the cat seemed to be a very good judge of character. Daryl had named him Eye in the Dark, and called him Eye for short. Going to the couch he eased his frame down and the cat turned a few times and settled on his stomach. Flicking at the remote, he channel surfed until he came to some sitcom he vaguely remembered he enjoyed, and sat there idly stroking at the fur ball on his chest.

_Plant Director, _that's me now.

When he had turned eighteen the plant had just opened and Daryl had just graduated from high school. It specialized in crop fertilization and had helped pull the small, floundering Georgia community out of its recession. It produced all natural, and chemical by-products and it employed over twelve hundred workers from various towns in the area. It was about twenty miles from where he lived, but Daryl was grateful to work out of town. Just four months ago from now he had found a yellow slip of paper hanging from his locker denoting a meeting with the Plant Director, Milton Mamet. Daryl had been a daytime Production Manager at the time and when he was told he was being rewarded for his hard work and dedication, he had been flabbergasted. They were giving him his very own plant to oversee. It was a much smaller facility, and was three hours away. He accepted the job with little forethought. It wasn't the staggering pay increase or the less strenuous work load which had intoxicated him to the idea of it all. It was that _he_ had done this. Daryl Dixon had accomplished something no one else in his family ever had, a prestigious career and a respected reputation with his employer. He smirked as he remembered that day it had all taken place, and the dread he had felt when he saw that slip of paper hanging from his locker.

FOUR MONTHS EARLIER

_Christ. _

There was a light yellow slip of office paper taped to his rusted, piebald work locker. Having just punched in at the time clock, seeing this simple, outwardly ordinary sight instilled a dread attached to a deep sense of foreboding which plucked at every nerve ending connected to his brain. Of course it was yellow; the plant owner didn't use pink slips.

Daryl stood staring at the thin, narrow strip of doom and in an unconscious gesture; he started chewing on his thumbnail. An old lunch pail swung from his other fist, stowed within just a basic cold cut sandwich, a peach and a thermos of strong black coffee.

"Fuck," he mumbled under his breath, stopping in front of the locker.

Grabbing at the note quickly, he glanced around to see if there was any of his crew lurking nearby. Spotting no one, he read the scribbled inscription and then glanced at his wristwatch. Sighing heavily, he wadded the slip up and shoved it into his pocket. Hasty fingers made a quick job of the combination, one he had been using for more years than he cared to remember, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, he opened the locker. He wondered for a moment if he should even bother putting his lunch pail inside. Shaking his head, he set it inside, grabbed his goggles, his gloves and his safety helmet. Placing the helmet on, he stretched the goggles around it to be eclipsed over his eyes later. _If there is a later,_ he thought morosely, taking the thick work gloves and concealing them out of sight in the same pocket which hid the yellow note.

The plant was loud, even at six in the morning, the machinery from within the main fertilizer building was booming and buzzing, blocking out any kind of pleasantry from the outside world. Daryl Dixon had been roaming this environment for the past twenty-two years. The last five as one of the first shift Engineer/Production Managers. A crew of one hundred men and women applied their various skills in his sector which he overlooked, expedited, and maintained. He had fairly good working relationships with each and every one of them. He knew all of their names, their respective spouse's names and had been invited to picnics and attended many children's birthday parties over the years and most of this was before his promotion to Shift Manager. It was honest to say Daryl enjoyed his job, and was content with his lot in life. Yet the slip in his pocket, which he imagined was sentient and breathing, could end it all with two ordinary words, but devastating if said together.

_You're fired._

The walk to the Personnel Building was quick, and once he entered the quiet lobby he approached the secretary behind the plastic partition. The woman glanced up from a document and smiled tiredly up at him.

"Can I help you?" The woman's voice reflected her tired demeanor but it was pleasant and helpful, as she smiled out at him.

He cleared his throat, and nodded. "Daryl Dixon, I have a meetin' with Mr. Mamet scheduled at 6:15."

"He's waiting for you Mr. Dixon. Go on back and I'll let him know you're on your way. Just enter by that door there to your right."

"Thank ya, ma'am," Daryl inclined his head, and turned to push through a heavy white door. It closed just as heavily behind him and he paused as a moment was taken to gain his bearings back.

Over the years there had never been a single time which he had been summoned to the Plant Director, Milton Mamet. When he had been promoted to Shift Engineer, they had only taped a white slip of paper to his locker and his pay checks reflected the hefty monetary increase. There was no meeting, no administrative comradely handshake to accommodate his promotion, just a slip of paper hanging nondescriptly at his locker. A woman from the corporate plant in Woodbury had come in for just one afternoon to familiarize him with his new duties, and she had departed before the day was over. Waste of a trip, Daryl had thought, and again, he was struck with how impersonal his promotion had been. It didn't matter in the end, he hated forced conversations and felt uncomfortable around the big dogs that blew in from time to time to critique and dictate how things should be handled. He didn't even remember the woman's name.

Gathering his wits, his thick soled black work boots carried him along the sickeningly familiar in contrast yellow painted corridor. _Irony, _he thought, scowling as he thrust his hand into his pocket, past his gloves, to crumble up the wad of paper even more.

Soon, the last door with a brass name plate depicting MILTON MAMET in shiny onyx lettering, informed him he had reached his destination. Knocking firmly three times, Daryl waited.

The door opened almost before his final knock was applied, and an informally dressed male greeted him.

"Good morning, Mr. Dixon, I thank you for your immediate arrival. I'm Milton Mamet." He extended his hand, and Daryl promptly shook it.

He nodded awkwardly, not knowing how to rightly express his displeasure in such a spontaneous meeting towards his impending dismissal. If he did allow such notions to be articulated, he was sure the stiffly bodied man before him would have him thrown from the premises.

"Yeah, came soon as I saw the - uh, the slip Mr. Mamet."

He smiled lightly, "Please, address me as Milton, Mr. Dixon."

"Call me Daryl," he responded, and Milton let his hand go and indicated to a chair in front of his desk.

"Please have a seat then, Daryl, and we can move right along." Milton pushed his glasses upwards and seated himself as Daryl did the same. The man folded manicured hands together in front of him and seemed to be assessing Daryl in some kind of scientific fashion.

Milton didn't venture out much into the main buildings, and Daryl had ever only spotted the soft spoken man in his area perhaps only two or three times over the last five years, before that, he had only seen him at a distance as he oversaw the plant. They had actually never spoken to one another. This enlightened rumination suddenly grappled with him. The second shift manager had spoken numerous times on what an annoying little pest Milton was. Daryl always shrugged this information away, as he listened, but never once had a comment of his own to make. Mamet had never made a point to annoy or even step foot in Daryl's surroundings. Now, he was wondering why.

"Do you like your job, Daryl?"

_Fuck. I goddamned knew it._

Shifting in the surprisingly comfortable chair, he nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Are you happy with what you do here?"

"Ain't nothin' else I can see myself doin', so yeah, been very happy doin' it Mr. Mamet."

"Milton."

"Milton." He corrected, fighting the urge to just ask what the fuck this was all about.

"How long have you been employed with us?" Milton asked in a manner which stated he was already aware of just how long Daryl had been collecting his pay checks.

"Goin' on twenty-three years now," he replied, shifting in his seat again.

Milton nodded to himself, and with a slight move of his hands, he opened up a folder and appeared to be studying it.

"You started before I even came here, Daryl. You began your employment with us in February of 1987 with your elder brother Merle Dixon. Merle was fired two years later in 1989 for working while intoxicated. It says here Merle left your hometown soon after." Milton glanced up, pushed his glasses up again, and waited for some kind of response.

"Yeah, so? What's my brother gotta do with all this?"

"Directly, nothing at all," he glanced back down and flipped through several sheets of paper.

"In twenty-two years you have never phoned in sick, requested time off nor had any reprimands given, verbal or written." Milton spoke in a bewildered tone, and glanced at Daryl again. "Are you impervious to illness?"

"What?" Daryl smiled a little, his face contorted in confusion.

"Twenty-two years, and not a single call in? That's highly uncommon in any manner of business, commercial or otherwise and I just wonder if you have an exceedingly fine tuned immune system."

"Take care o' myself, don't git sick." Daryl said plainly, shrugging his shoulders, confused on where this line of questioning was headed.

The man nodded, seemingly content with his answer and moved on to his next question. "And why is it, in your opinion, you have never been reprimanded or written up for insubordination?"

Again, he shrugged. "Do the job, do it right, an' no one gits confused. Ain't hard to do if ya jus' do the work."

Milton had no expression on his face as he averted his gaze back to the folder.

"Do you have family besides your brother, Daryl? I can't seem to find anyone else on file here. You're not married?" He looked up again.

"Ain't no one else 'cept Merle. Ain't hitched, ain't never gonna be hitched."

"Girlfriend, a woman you see regularly – a man, perhaps?"

"No, no and hell no." he said currishly, darting his steel blue gaze to glare at an unaware Milton Mamet.

"Parents?"

"Dead."

"So I can presume you have no children either?"

Scoffing in impatience, he nodded. "Yeah, ain't got no kids."

"No kin, whatsoever, besides your brother Merle?"

"No, I done told ya, ain't no one else my kin 'cept Merle." It was difficult, but Daryl had succeeded in keeping his tone civil, however, Milton seemed to be oblivious that his inquires were upsetting the redneck in front of him.

"Where is Merle?"

"Locked up in Georgia State Penitentiary. Ain't that written down in your file?"

"Oh no, this isn't my file, it's yours, and no, it isn't – but I _shall_ make a note of it. Why is Merle incarcerated?"

"Methamphetamine manufacturin'," he offered blandly, sighing, feeling more and more uncomfortable.

"How long is his sentence?"

"Was his third strike with the law gittin' caught up in drugs, so he's gotta go on a longer stretch this time 'round, so he's lookin' at ten years. Ain't gonna do that much time though, but he has a mandatory minimum of four years an' he's been gone two months now. So's I s'posse I'll see him on the outside say maybe four years from now."

"Are you bothered, Daryl?" Milton seemed to finally sort out that his questions were unnerving the man before him.

"I don't see how any o' these things gotta do with why ya asked me here ta see ya."

"Oh, well, they have everything to do with that."

"How? Our conversation ain't been much 'o one yet, jus' you askin' 'bout my family an' stuff, which I ain't got much of."

"Mr. Blake likes to have a proper comprehension of his employee's before we send them on their way. Anyone employed with Blake Industries is part of a large family. It's more personal than just your average employment."

_Send them on their way? The fuck does that mean? _

Daryl sighed, and placed his hands on his knees to avoid clenching them or resorting to chewing on already weathered fingernails.

"Look, if your preparin' ta git rid o' me, jus' git it over with'. I ain't got time ta play twenty questions, Milton."

Mamet pressed his lips together, and closed the folder. "I think I have all I need to know. Well Daryl..."

He didn't finish his sentence because Daryl stood up suddenly, confusion and fright coursing through his veins. His stance was non-confrontational; instead it was self-defensive, his arms hugging his torso and fingertips hiding under his biceps as he nibbled on his inner cheek.

"Are you quite well, Daryl? Is something the matter?"

"Can I just go now? Rather git my personal items cleared out 'fore my crew," he sighed, knowing they weren't his crew any longer, "'fore the others git here."

"You want to leave now?" He asked incredulously, seeming to be slightly annoyed. "We'll let you finish your workweek before we send you off; in fact, you may need until the end of the month." Milton stood now too and walked around the desk to lean one hip upon it. "I wasn't aware you were privy to what this meeting entailed. We only came to this decision yesterday, Mr. Blake and I, after we reviewed your file for months along with your extensive history with the company."

The tracker shrugged. "Ain't matterin' none, I can tell that your just buyin' time until ya send me off on my way, right?"

Milton frowned, and now stared at Daryl as though he were the one not making any sense. "I'm thinking you may have jumped to the wrong conclusion. I _am_ sending you on your way, of course if you choose to go. Why do you think I inquired about a family? Mr. Blake likes to have an understanding about certain things. If you had a wife and children, we would be reluctant to uproot you from your life here. A single man with no attachments however, might be more willing to leave and go off to oversee what needs attending to."

Comprehension flooded his embodiment, and his stance loosened considerably. Allowing a chuckle to burst forth from his lungs, Daryl shook his head in amazement. "Ya ain't firin' me?"

"Goodness gracious, no, not even in the same ballpark and I can't fathom why you thought I was about to. You _must know_ you are the most qualified engineer we have here and the most productive member of the general management. Since your induction, there hasn't been one accident on your shift, the byproduct output has improved over two-hundred percent and your crew has outstanding production elicitation. Fire you? No, we want you to be the new Plant Director over in Morgan County."

As the information processed, Daryl could only stare at the smaller man in total befuddlement.

"Ya'll want me ta be what, the boss? You're givin' me my own facility?"

"Indeed, if you accept the job, it's yours. If you choose to seize this extraordinary opportunity, you'll be working with me, and under my training, you'll learn the in's and out's of running your own plant. You have the genius to do it Daryl, that's why Mr. Blake _chooses you_."

Plopping back down into the comfy chair to keep his legs from melting under him, he inhaled and exhaled in relief. They wanted to give him a chance, a greater chance than he had ever felt within his reach.

Milton walked back around and sat again. "You have given twenty plus years of your hard work and dedication, it's only right to reward such outstanding work ethics." He said matter-of-factly, in a dry deadpanned articulation.

"I'll take the job," He said without hesitation, rubbing his hand along his scruffy chin. "I'm ready for more responsibility, I wanna do it."

"Excellent, I was hoping you would. Now, the new plant as you know has been under construction the past year on the outskirts of Buckhead, Georgia in Morgan County, roughly three hours away from here. It _is_ a slightly smaller plant than this one, but it will offer many new job opportunities in that area where unemployment is high. Mr. Blake wishes to offer the communities there new hope in hindsight of such drastic declines to our economy. Your training will only take as long as it takes you to learn exactly what it is that I do here as Directing Manager. The plant opens in six months, on June 2nd, which gives you ample time, although I doubt it will take you that long to adjust. You'll need to find housing which shouldn't be a daunting task at all. I would suggest relocating directly to Buckhead. I'll give you the information to put you in touch with the local real estate agent for that area. The plant's only several miles away. The town isn't even one square mile in size. The population is barely over two hundred citizens."

"Sounds like my own home town, real small an' cozy like."

"I visited Buckhead while I oversaw some of the construction. I enjoyed my time there."

Daryl nodded, relaxing fully.

"You'll have several tasks to do before you and I start working in proximity. I want you to pick someone to replace you."

"Jim." He interjected.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, he can do it, an' do it well. Been here almost as long as me," Daryl nodded slowly, staring at Milton's hand as he made a note.

"Great, I'll let you inform him and you can start today by showing him how to do your job."

Milton continued to drivel on, and Daryl stared at him intently, retaining all the details as he grew more and more involved in his future which suddenly seemed to have a new purpose.

His eyes fluttered open as he was pulled out of his ruminations and he looked down at the cat sprawled out on his lap.

"Whatcha thinkin', Eye? Ya wanna come an' stay with me in Buckhead? Maybe we's can find ya a real nice lady cat to shack up with, eh?"

The cat's ears flicked back at the sound of his humans deep, smooth drawl, and his tail thumped on his leg.

"Yeah, I thought so." Daryl gave him some scratches behind his ear and took the last drag from a cigarette he didn't remember lighting. "Ya ain't got time for that, well, me neither."

After sitting with his furry companion for a bit longer, the grumbling call of his belly forced him to stand up and go see what he had put out in the refrigerator to thaw out for dinner. A thick cut butterfly chop had his mouth watering. Spicing it up he plopped it on a plate, grabbed a cold Budweiser and went out to his gas grill on the back porch. Once it was sizzling nicely, he sat down at the patio table, and slowly savored his brew.

Moments later, his cell phone began buzzing in his pocket. Reaching for it, he checked the caller ID and sighed deeply. Only his co-workers and the Personnel people had his number, and of course, Merle. He answered it and waited for the automated voice to tell him he had a call from the prison, and quickly pressed the number 3 button to accept it.

"Hello," he answered the wariness apparent in his voice.

"Well shit, baby bruther, din't think I'd getcha on the first call, reckoned ya were still sore at me for earlier. Can ya hear me okay?"

"Not really, the fuck is goin' on in there? Some kinda riot? You start some shit at count or what?"

Merle chuckled, "Nah, 's movie night, an' all these bastards wanna use th' phone 'fore we all sit down an' jerk each other off."

"Ya'll watchin' anything good?"

"Fuck if I kno's lil bruther, I jus' join in on the circle jerk." Merle paused and it sounded like he had switched ears. "Lookie here, jus' don't think ya movin' all yer shit ta sum shithole place is gonna do ya any good. They's gonna look at'cha th' same way everyone does now. Like a piece o' shit redneck tryin' ta com' into town an' start runnin' shit. That ain't yer way, I done taught ya better than that, bruther."

"The fuck you did, Merle. Gonna mind my own damn business like I always does. Gonna be helpin' folks git jobs jus' like they helped me when I was started up. Ya can't kno' what it's like cause ya never wanted ta work, all ya ever wanted ta do was run 'round an' do whatever the fuck it was you wanted ta do." Daryl sat up, and cringed at the almost pleading quality in his voice, wanting some kind of acknowledgement that his brother was proud of him. That he was happy Daryl had earned this and was taking his prize.

"Awe, shit, yeah, I hear ya. Yer gonna be under sum assholes thumb, tellin' ya when ta piss, when ta shit, an' when ta fuck." The elder Dixon brother sighed, long-sufferingly, and then chuckled. "When do ya start?"

Daryl let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and didn't bother reminding Merle he had told him a hundred different times. "I'ma head up ta Buckhead t'morrow an' scope out the town with some lady real estate agent. I already been ta the plant an' met everyone. It ain't open yet though an' my boss say's I could take the next two months off an' git settled an' oversee the last o' the construction an' git done with the hirin' process. Thinkin' 'bout doin' that. I ain't wantin' ta stick 'round here no more or longer than I gotta."

"That Miller Munster guy yer boss?" Merle cackled, enjoying getting a rise out of his baby brother.

"Milton Mamet, an' no, talkin' 'bout Philip Blake."

"Whatever, so yer leavin' the trailer fer me? Ain't gonna sell it behind my back while I'm takin' my vacation?"

"Leavin' it be 'til ya can move back in when ya git out."

"Reckon yer gonna take everything wit' ya up ta Buckwheat?"

"Buckhead," he corrected, much to Merles delight as he laughed in the receiver. "Nah, gonna leave the furniture here for ya. Might gonna buy som' new furniture, a new bed an' maybe a new couch – Don't kno' yet… But I ain't takin' non'a it I got's here. Gonna spend a few months an' see how things go, an' if I takes to the job as good as I think I'ma gonna do, I'ma find a house. Jus' gonna rent some room for now."

"I see, yeah, good thinkin' baby bruther, ya don't wanna git roots set up, ya kno'? Might gotta high tail it outta there, might knock sumone up."

"Shut up," Daryl stood and went to flip his pork chop. "Ain't lookin' for none 'o that kinda shit, don't need the headache."

"Gotta man up sumtime an' find ya a good woman ta keep yer bed warm an' yer cock wet." Merle guffawed bristly into the phone. "'S o' shame ya don't use it mor' often bruther, ya kno'. Only thing Pa ever gav' us was th' will ta survive an' a huge ol' pickle ta tickle th' ladies wit'."

"Yeah? So's I can end up with the Clap like you did all them times?" Daryl chuckled, missing the man on the phone more than he'd ever admit to him.

Merle became quiet, and he sighed long and almost sadly. "Deryl, sumday ya gonna be in it so hard, ya ain't even gonna kno' what hit'cha. 'S how it always ends up ta be an' ya end up jus' another pussy whipped bitch waitin' on sum woman hand an' foot."

"Since when did you start clackin' like a hen givin' out relationship advice, brother? When the fuck were ya ever in one? Pttff."

"Always figured you were still pristine, boy. Name me one time ya got yer cock wet?"

"I've had sex, Merle, I'm forty-one fuckin' years old. But ya done fucked up so much I ain't never gonna take advice from you 'bout nothin'."

"Who'd ya fuck brother, coss I ain't never seen ya wit' a woman."

"You were gone for years, Merle. Ya ain't kno'ing what the fuck I been up to. Jus' shut the hell up already."

"Thas why ya should listen ta me, baby bruther, I done fucked up so much I know's wha' I'm talkin' 'bout. Glad ya had ya sum pussy though." Daryl could feel the smirk his brother had glued to his face over the miles that separated them.

His banter with Merle lasted a few more minutes until the twenty minute phone call was disconnected. Plating his chop, Daryl sat down at the patio table and ate in quiet contemplation. Gazing around, he realized he would miss this old trailer, and the inviting woods which surrounded the trailer park. Far too long it had been since he allowed an entire day for a well off hunt. His crossbow unfortunately seemed to be collecting dust in its corner next to the rear door. He had been thinking of replacing it, and thought perhaps there might be a nice wooded area near Buckhead for a good hunting spot. Daryl loved being outside, and made the decision to make more time for his passion as his work load became more demanding but less occupying.


	2. What's Your Name, Cat Man?

Hi! This story is AU, sorry I didn't state that before. D: After this chapter the following chapters get a tad lengthy. I've aged Beth a few years and Karen is my villain in this tale, for reasons I'll explain if anyone wishes to know why. xD Thank you so, so, so, so much for the follows and the favorites and the reviews!

I do NOT own The Walking Dead. :'(

Chapter Two

What's Your Name, Cat Man?

The steady rumble of the blue pickup came to a halt as Daryl pulled into Buckhead. High activity had Main Street bustling with folks wandering to and fro along the sidewalks. Daryl found a parking spot in front of a bar and grill, turned the ignition off and nodded his head at an elderly man walking a dog between his truck and a large recreational vehicle next to it. He sat there finishing his cigarette as he glanced up and down the street. He realized it was some sort of farmers market as his gaze settled on a large booth set up to the left of his truck that depicted Farm Fresh Eggs from the Greene Family Farm. There was a young girl with flaxen hair chatting with the man who was walking his dog.

Stepping out of his truck Daryl stared up at the sign on the building in front of him which read _Buck Skin_. This was where he was meeting with the Real Estate lady, Lori Grimes. A sign inside the door advertised a fairly priced steak lunch written in fancy pastel chalk. The inside wasn't busy and he was greeted with a friendly smile from an older woman sitting in a booth as he walked through the small entrance vestibule. Quirking his lips back, Daryl sauntered through and took a seat right at the bar. The décor was interesting with a rustic flare to it, and he admired the deer skins and several buck heads aligning the walls. There was a small stage with karaoke equipment and a little dance floor in front of it. An old fashioned jukebox stood next to a row of dart boards where several teens were throwing darts. It was a comfy atmosphere and Daryl could actually picture coming in after a long day at the plant and enjoying a beer after work.

Turning his attention back to the bar, he looked up into the face of a smiling brunette.

"Hey stranger, I'm Karen, what can I get you?"

Daryl pointed his thumb back toward the sign. "Steak lunch sounds like it'll hit the spot."

"Sure thing - it comes with a salad, and fries or baked potato." She ran a rag along the counter, grinning at him.

"Baked potato, lots 'o sour cream if ya got it."

"No problem, dressing?"

"Ranch," he looked over to see what kind of soda they had. "Hav' my steak rare and I'll hav' a Coke."

"You got it." The woman winked and Daryl looked away.

Just then the door opened and the man with the dog, who was happily wagging its tail alongside him, came bustling through. He greeted the woman in the booth with a peck on the lips. The two of them came over and sat several stools down from Daryl. The dog came over and sniffed at Daryl's boot and then barked up at him.

"Hey there fella," he murmured, reaching down to let the dog sniff at his hand. When the animal stood up on his hind legs and put his front paws on Daryl's thigh and barked again, he chuckled and petted it along its head.

"Charlie, leave that poor man be." The woman chastised, calling to the dog as she leaned around the elderly gentleman.

"Its okay ma'am, he ain't botherin' me none." Daryl smiled at the older couple. "Probably jus' smells my cat."

"Oh, he likes cats." The woman grinned jubilantly. "They just don't seem to like him too much."

"My old tom, he don't mind dogs, he likes ta chase 'em an' try an' make friends. Funny ta watch." Daryl chuckled, patting the dogs head.

The man who was holding the dogs leash had a grayish white beard and was wearing a fisherman's hat. Daryl thought he had a very grandfatherly air about him and almost took an instant liking to him. This was definitely new for him because he hardly gave two shits about anyone upon first meeting them. He reminded Daryl of someone who should be in On Golden Pond as he held his hand out and introduced himself. "I'm Dale, and this here is my wife Irma and I see you've met Charlie."

Daryl shook his hand. "Names Daryl Dixon, nice ta meetcha."

Taking his hand back Dale puckered his lips making a beckoning sound and Charlie retreated. "Nice to meet you too, Daryl."

Karen the barmaid came back with his salad and soda just as he said his name. Setting the plate down, she winked once more then went to chat with Irma as she put the couple's lunch order in. Daryl could feel the woman's eyes on him every so often and he shifted uncomfortably on the stool. He tore up the ring of red onion in his salad and avoided looking up at her. He knew that look. He wasn't blind to how women stared at him, sometimes with their eyes glazed over in lust as they almost seemed to pant. It made him uncomfortable, uneasy and self-conscious like they wanted to eat him alive. Daryl had had very little interaction with women just for these reasons. He knew he was emotionally stunted, being touched set his flight or fight instinct on overdrive, and he had barely disciplined himself to no longer flinch from casual human contact over the years. The only place he ever felt comfortable around people was when he was working.

He'd been with women. That much had been the truth to his brother. A quick lay to fuck in some anonymous bedroom after hours of imbibing at the bar or in the back of some bitch's car after a tailgating party. Daryl was just as susceptible to the carnal needs of his body as any other red-blooded man. Granted, it wasn't as often as he would have his brother believe nor was it with the types of women Merle'd approve of. It was the allure of a soft body or the need to feel something other than the loneliness he denied that haunted him. The fear of intimacy, the terrifying truth that if he truly opened his heart or let someone know him, they wouldn't like what they found. So, Daryl opted to stay alone and so he did.

The woman ambled back over to him and grinned as she wiped at the already spotless counter. He chewed the food in his mouth slowly keeping his gaze lowered to his plate.

"I like a man who can eat a salad." She tapped her fingers on the counter as though to get his attention. "You enjoying it?"

Daryl could hear the playful tone of her voice and he winced.

"I enjoy rabbit food jus' as much as I do anything else I s'ppose." Shrugging, he lifted his gaze. "Food is food far as I can tell. Can't be too picky when they's people out there who ain't got none."

This statement elicited a flirty tilt of her head, her long brown locks falling to the side to drape over her shoulder. "Awwwwe, that is so true." She cradled her face with one hand as she leaned on the countertop with her face only inches away. "So, _Daryl Dixon_, what brings you to Buckhead this fine spring day? Don't think I've ever seen you around these parts."

Casual conversation, he could do this, it was just a question, and besides, wouldn't he be living here for the duration of however long he held his new job? Perhaps forever if he was lucky enough to accomplish a well enough repertoire with the employee's and prove he could handle such a huge responsibility? He cleared his throat and took a sip of his Coke. "I'm movin' here ta Buckhead, coincidently." There, that should be enough for her. Bar tenders always seemed to be the biggest source of small town gossip so maybe if she spread it around he wouldn't have to answer the same inquiries over and over and over again.

"Oh yeah? What brings you here?"

He sighed, placing his fork down and wiping his mouth ungracefully with the back of his hand despite the napkin beside his plate. "I'm overseein' the final construction on the new Blake plant a couple miles outta town." He looked behind her, his eyes drifting to where the door to the kitchen was. "My steak done yet?"

Karen pushed away from the counter, winked, and turned to walk through the swinging door.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying," The man, Dale, had shifted in his stool and was looking at Daryl with a lot more interest now. "Are you in charge of that new fertilizer plant?"

Daryl inclined his head, making an agreeing sound in his throat. "Yep, sure is. I'm coming out from Moline."

Slapping the counter with his hand Dale grinned animatedly. "Mr. Blake met with our town council and most everyone else about two years ago in the community center where we hold our council meetings and I tell you, he charmed our pants off, that's for sure. He made the proposition for the land he wanted to buy from Herschel Greene and so far, he's been nothing but sincere and compassionate to us all. Kept every promise he made and given many of our people jobs since they started hiring a few months ago." Dale shook his head in amazement and turned to get his wife's attention. "Irma, Irma! This young man here is the new plant director Mr. Blake said was coming to town to take ascendancy of it."

Daryl watched with a small smile as they talked excitedly and then she leaned over her husband to grin at him. "Mr. Blake said he had a nice competent man coming in and here you are! Dale say's your moving here?"

"Sure am, s'ppose ta be meetin' with Lori Grimes? She's gonna show me 'round town and take me ta see a few places here in an hour or so." Daryl liked these two, liked how they smiled at him and liked how they talked to him, like he was someone worth knowing, even before they knew he was the new plant director whom they seemed to have been excited to meet.

Karen came back out and set his steak and potato in front of him and took his mostly finished salad away.

"Lori? Yeah, she said she was going out looking around at some rooms today. You're not interested in buying a house? There's a nice new development down the highway a bit." Karen said, as she placed the salad plate behind the bar in a grey dish bucket. "Thinking about getting myself a place there maybe we could be neighbors." She giggled, and the sound of it annoyed him greatly.

"Nah, jus' wanna rent som'thin' small for now an' see how things go at the plant." He shrugged, turning the plate to where he wanted it.

She crinkled her nose distastefully, and the giggle faded. "I can only think of one room for rent over on Baker Drive and then that nutcase – the old lady with the third floor attic for rent outside of town in her ghastly ass farm house."

Dale clucked his tongue and shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with Carol. She's just quiet, shy. She's nice if you give her half of a chance."

"I haven't trusted that old hag since she came to town." Karen's eyes grew dark, and they flashed aggressively at Dale. "She comes in once a week, on karaoke night no less, and sings the same damn set of songs each time. She has one drink and nurses it the whole night. Never talks to anyone, never mingles. She's nuts. Where did she even come from? She should just go back." Karen rolled her eyes and Daryl just sighed, cutting into his meat. "No one even likes her and she's about 150 years old with that short frizzy grey hair of hers. Hello? Has she never heard of hair coloring? And she smells like moth balls and cat, gross. I hate cats."

"Are y'all gossiping about Carol Peletier?" Daryl felt someone sit down next to him in the empty bar stool as the voice spoke again. "She's an odd ball. Hey Dale! Hey Irma!"

"Yes, I am." Karen replied, with the same ugly expression on her face that Daryl was starting to get really sick of. "Anyone who steps into this bar is susceptible to criticism and mockery."

"Hey Beth, how's your booth coming along?" Irma asked, waving at the newcomer.

It was the young blonde he had seen Dale chatting with when he was finishing up his cigarette before he came inside for lunch.

"Doing well so far," The girl said, "Glenn just came over from daddy's clinic to give me a break. Hi! Ain't seen you around before?"

Turning slightly, Daryl nodded his head, trying to swallow the steak in his mouth. "Hi." He managed before taking a sip at his soda.

"That there is Daryl Dixon. He's the new guy in town. Gonna be taking over the fertilizer plant for Mr. Blake." Karen said, offering up all the details as she watched him eat his food. "He's waiting for Lori to show him around."

"Nice to meet you, Daryl, I'm Beth Greene." She held her hand out and he wiped his hand and fingers off on his pant leg before he shook it quickly.

"Yeah, nice ta meet'cha too." He replied, taking his hand back.

"So, why are y'all droning on about Carol? She do something strange worth gossiping about? Oh, Karen, I'll have a grilled chicken on flat bread with the house fries and a side of coleslaw." Beth said as Karen placed a Sprite and a straw down in front of her without being asked to. This made him smirk. Small towns, everyone knew everything about everyone and what they liked.

Dale piped up, sticking his head around Daryl. "No one was gossiping. Karen just mentioned to Daryl here that Carol is renting out her third floor attic and I was saying there's nothing wrong with Carol and that some people need to be friendlier."

"Ohhh, I see. Well, she's always nice to me when she comes over and buys our veggies. Daddy buys eggs from her sometimes, the duck eggs I mean. We have chickens but can't seem to entice the ducks to stay in our pond. I don't mind her." Beth took the glass of soda in front of her and poked her straw out of its wrapping. "She's just a bit strange but I think that's cause no one knows where she came from." The girl put her straw into the soda and took a big drink.

"She came from Planet Freakazoid." The barmaid drawled as she took Daryl's glass and refilled it. "She comes into town one day and just moves _right on in_ the old Jacobson house and keeps herself cooped up with that nasty old cat of hers and those noisy damn ducks that flock all over the property. I hate the racket they make you can hear them all damn day."

"Those duck eggs are good have you ever tried them for yourself?" Irma commented, giving Karen a stern look meant to inspire shame. "They make a really tasty omelette. You should add duck egg omlettes to the breakfast menu."

Karen just rolled her eyes though. "Why would I want to? I'd lose costumers. No, I wouldn't ever give her any of my business."

"Som' people ain't liked ta be bothered, ain't nothin' wrong wit' that." Daryl said, shrugging his shoulders. "An' it's the females that like ta carry on an' such, they's just loud coss they's happy. Ducks is ducks. Any dumbass wit' a lick o' sense knows that…" The irritated man mumbled this last part under his breath but he could swear he heard Dale snicker next to him.

"My point exactly," Dale said. "Now can we please talk about something else?"

However, Karen would not be deterred. "And what the hell does she do for a living? Or is she retired? She never leaves that old house. And she creeps me out with those weird shawls she always has wrapped around her like she's a fortune teller. I'm surprised she doesn't have a sign hanging from her porch advertising for people to have their palms read."

"Oh! Maybe she was some kinda schoolmarm? Retired librarian? She has that look about her. She's old, real skinny, I can see her wearing long skirts and fluffy shirts like they do and smacking little hands with a ruler when they act out." Beth giggled, seeming to enjoy the conversation, like it was a guessing game or some shit. "Or maybe she's the crypt keeper? You know there's that old cemetery on her property in the woods. Dates back to the Civil War."

"Any o' y'all ever jus' considered askin' the woman what she do?" He put his knife down and scoffed, shaking his head, looking at them all one by one.

Daryl disliked gossip; it reminded him of all those times he heard his name being whispered as he stopped in the store or went in to pay for gas. The way they were talking about this lady he didn't even know made him uneasy. He had no clue what Lori Grimes had on their agenda when it came to scouting out possible places for him to live but if this woman was one of their stops, he didn't want to hear any more trash talking.

"Carol is just a very private person. I think she works from home." Irma commented, glancing over at Daryl but flicked her eyes between Beth and Karen and him as she spoke. "She moved here about five years ago. Bought that old manor and keeps to herself. I talk to her when I see her in town. I'm sure she might even come out to the Farmers Market sometime this weekend – the sweet dear isn't a total recluse as some presume to think. The attic she has for rent is actually the old maid quarters, it's nice and roomy she said, like a small apartment. She's been slowly fixing the house up, renovating and what not. I think she should open a bed and breakfast seeing as its definitely large enough."

Daryl nodded, cutting up the last portion of his steak once he gathered his fork and knife back up. "Don't sound too bad."

"Yeah, works from home," Karen placed some plates in front of Dale and Irma as she continued on, much to Daryl's annoyance. "She probably has a website with her creepy ass face on it and that's where she advertises her fortune telling abilities, ripping people off."

"They charge by the minute, don't they?" Beth chimed back in. "Remember when the psychic fair came to town with the carnival a few years back? They had all those fancy tents set up and you could get a reading for ten dollars? I had one done on my past lives. It was neat." Beth rambled on. "I remember Carol was there and she went into one of them tents. Maybe she was visiting with one of her fortune telling friends? I bet whatever kinda psychic business she's in, she's in it hard."

"You know, you could be on to something Beth." Karen nodded her head, tossing her rag from one hand to the other. "Next time she comes in here for karaoke night I'm gonna ask her to read my palm and see what she does."

The idle gossip continued and once he was finished eating he paid his bill and then lit up a cigarette stepping outside. The time on his watch told him the woman he was meeting would be there any moment and as he leaned against the bricks of the building he looked down at the Greene Family booth. There was an Asian man sitting down as he placed eggs into a carton and chatted with a dark skinned woman with long braids. She had a small boy with her and he was laughing playfully as he picked up a woven basket and tossed it to the ground, vegetables scattering all along the sidewalk.

"Andre!" The woman called out, "We don't throw things! I'm sorry Glenn."

The Asian laughed, "It's okay, Michonne."

Daryl smirked, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he watched the woman hurry to pick up the offended veggies. The little boy assisted her, laughing as he did, and soon they moved on along to the next booth. Daryl decided he liked it here so far and the few people he had met were friendly enough. He didn't however care very much for Karen, besides the fact she hated cats, and he thought how sad it was that someone who obviously owned the only bar and grill in town, could so easily trash talk a member of the town so thoughtlessly. This Carol woman apparently came in to sing on certain nights, giving her patronage to the establishment, and still was jawed about behind her back. He wondered if she was aware of it the same way he had been when he was younger and had the same treatment given to him. Sucking on his lips he began to wonder about the attic the lady had for rent and this big old house she lived him. Daryl was handy around many different things that needed to be fixed and the thought of maybe helping her out with broken things made him even more curious to see the place.

He crushed his cigarette out in a tall ashtray just as Dale and Irma stepped outside with Charlie wagging his tail happily and then two more cars pulled up in front of the building to join the long line of the others. The first car was a dark green S.U.V and the second was a police charger. The door to the S.U.V opened first. Daryl's first impression of the tall, dark haired woman she was looked exactly like Popeye's girlfriend, Olive Oyl. Once she closed her door the two policemen also stepped out.

"That's Lori Grimes and her husband, Buckhead's very own sheriff, Rick Grimes. His deputy there, that's Shane Walsh." Irma explained when she saw Daryl gazing at the three as they approached them.

"Irma! Dale! How are you two," Lori Grimes gave the elder woman a hug and then wrapped her long slim arms around Dale before finally looking at Daryl. "Mr. Dixon?"

"Yes ma'am," Daryl pushed away from the wall and placed his hand out. Lori smiled in a friendly manner, and offered his hand a firm grip.

"Welcome to Buckhead." The sheriff said his blue eyes kind and welcoming as he went to stand beside his wife. "I'm Rick Grimes. If you need anything at all to make your move here go smoothly you just find me or my deputy here, Shane Walsh." He held his hand out and Daryl took it and then smiled to the other officer.

"Daryl Dixon. I 'ppreciate that, thanks," He said, before letting the man's hand go and turning to shake the other officers hand, Shane.

Dale came to stand beside Daryl. "You know who this is, Sheriff? This is the man Mr. Blake has coming to run the fertilizer plant."

"Ya don't say? Well shit, welcome again." Shane said, grinning at Daryl now. "That place is helping us out a lot what with hiring and bringing new folks to town. Got a hell of a task ahead of you."

"So's I hear," Daryl replied, a little wary of all this attention but accepting it nonetheless. He knew his arrival and the excitement it brought would die down soon enough.

Lori smiled, "I know you just want to rent but I came across several small properties to go look at. We have three houses for sale and a few acres of land you could build one on if you wanted."

"I'll let you get to work." Rick placed a kiss on his wife's cheek then averted his eyes to Daryl. He tipped his hat and smiled. "Remember what I said, and good luck with your house hunting."

Rick and Shane headed inside the Buck Skin and Dale and Irma wandered off down the sidewalk after waving goodbye to him and Lori.

"That your truck?" She asked, pointing to the blue pickup.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I'll drive you around, hop on in."

They climbed inside the S.U.V and Lori backed out slowly once she buckled up and started the engine up. She started down the road and asked, "So, what exactly are you interested in?"

Daryl cleared his throat. "Well, I's thinkin' 'bout jus' hunkerin' down in a room for the time bein'. Ain't really interest'd in a house jus' yet, all my own. Been hearin' they's an attic for rent from som' lady goes by the name o' Carol?"

The woman beside him sucked in a hiss of a breath and laughed. "Yeah, yeah Carol's renting her attic out, but, I know for a fact she won't rent to you."

Daryl nodded his head, looking out the window. He could feel her looking at him before she laughed again. "I sold her the Jacobson manor when she came here. I'm sure you've heard your fair share of gossip today and Carol just seems to inspire it. Unfortunately you get that around here if you're a little different or socially awkward."

"So's I been hearin'." He scowled, looking at her now, and against his usual judgment and for some nagging inkling about this woman named Carol, he just had to find out more about her. "What's so damn strange 'bout her anyhow? All's I been hearin' is she's som' kinda recluse but far as I can tell, ain't nothin' wrong with that."

As she stopped at a stop sign, she turned her head and gave him a long stare trying to size him up, he reckoned. There was a protective glint in her eyes and this made him instantly more at ease. Hoping this woman was maybe a friend of the duck lady, he let his face relax, fashioning the scowl with an expression of inquisitiveness. They looked at one another and Daryl dropped his gaze just slightly, and picked at his cuticles.

"I kno' how it feels - how that is, bein' talked 'bout behind ya back. I com' from the back hills o' som' no name gulley on the side o' a rock quarry."

Lori sat back against the seat and moved the car forward.

"Well…she paid for her house full, in cash. She lives alone with a cat in a huge house with fourteen rooms. There was a rumor after she got here that she was the widow of a mob boss from Chicago. She doesn't _appear_ to have a job and well, people just talk. I love Carol; we're good friends, best friends actually. I go and have lunch with her about twice a week. My son, Carl, enjoys helping her feed her ducks." Lori made a left turn and started down a long gravel drive. "It's just gossip; don't pay any attention to what Karen says. She's just pissed because she wanted that manor and Carol was the one who had the cash to buy it outright."

Daryl chuckled, finding it amusing that this woman knew exactly who had been gossiping. "Why ya think she wouldn't rent ta me?"

"I set the ad up in the papers for her, here and in a few other local ads from the surrounding towns. She wants to rent to a woman and yeah, you have one too many extra prerequisites to fill the order in for her perfect renter."

He nodded his head in defeat, and sighed. "Well, I guess if'n I hafta, I'll rent a house."

"Everything around here is for sale. You'll have to go looking about ten maybe twenty miles away if you're really dead set on just renting."

He nodded, and sucked on his lips. "Show me what ya got, I'll giv' 'em a look's see."

Lori Grimes drove them around and stopped at several small houses for sale and as much as they seemed appealing in way or another, none of them felt right for Daryl. They even drove back into town and ended up looking at a very tiny room, the one for rent on Baker Drive that Karen had mentioned and it was smaller than Daryl's bathroom at his trailer. Lori gave him an apologetic face and ushered him right out. They ended up back in front of the Buck Skin after hours of driving around and coming up with nothing to his liking. He sighed as they came to a stop and a sullen guilt plagued him as Lori fussed, trying to make him feel better. The late afternoon sun was slowly fading into the dusk and the Farmers Market was quiet and still, the few sellers left were closing up shop for the evening. She pulled her keys out and pocketed them as she climbed out of the car. "I'm so sorry we don't have what you want, Daryl. Is there anything I can do? Want me to check into rooms for rent in the next town over?"

He shut the door and took his truck keys out of his pocket. "Are ya sure ya friend, - that Carol lady would say no out right ta me?"

Lori pursed her lips and thought for a second and then glanced at her wristwatch. "Here's what I'll do, she's gonna murder me but - I'll give you Carol's cell phone number and you can call and talk to her yourself. She's been trying to find someone to rent it to for a few months now, maybe you can convince her to let you look at it. Call her now if you want. We still have time to drive out to her place if she agrees; Rick is working late anyways so I don't have dinner to make. Me and Carl usually eat at the Buck Skin on Saturday nights anyways. I actually have to go pick up Carl from his friend's house now and we'll come straight back here. If she says we can come out, me and Carl will go with you."

Daryl nodded and waited as she dug into her purse for her cell.

"Hand me your phone, I'll type it in for you."

Handing it over, she grinned when she slid it open with her thumb. "I kinda miss these simpler, easier, slider phones. You have the full keyboard too I see, nice. I swear - I can't manage to use this damn smart phone on most days. Definitely smarter than me. There you go."

He took his phone back and nodded as she got back into her S.U.V. She waved, and he lifted his hand in return then made his way over to his pick up once she drove away. Slamming the door shut he sighed, rolling the window down and lighting up a cigarette. The blonde girl, Beth, was back at her booth, putting things away and talking with the Asian kid and another woman with medium colored brown hair. The brunette had one hand tucked into the man's back pocket and he had his arm around her waist. Blowing out smoke, Daryl pressed the green send key on his phone and held it up to his ear. It only rang three times before a soft, feminine voice answered.

"Hello?"

He cleared his throat, "Um, hello, this Carol?"

"Yes…this is she…Who is this?"

"- I, uh, I got ya number from Lori Grimes? I'm interest'd in the attic ya got for rent?"

There was long a pause.

"Nope - not today - in fact, never - Goodbye."

The line disconnected. Pulling the phone back he shook his head and pressed the send key again. It rang longer this time before the woman picked up.

"I said no, doesn't that register? Don't call back."

The woman on the line sounded leery, not pissed, so he tried again.

"Please, ma'am, jus' – can ya jus' hear me out 'fores ya hang up?"

There was a pause and he thought he heard the sound of papers being shuffled together. "You enjoy wasting people's time, is that it?"

"No ma'am," Daryl drawled softly, trying to keep her on the phone. "Look, Lori done drove me all o'er today an' I heard 'bout ya attic from a few people here in town. I jus' wanna see it, if that's okay?"

Another pause, "No, that's not okay. I'm not renting a part of my home to some strange man and if Lori really is there with you, she would know this and also, she would call to ask me herself to bring someone out to look at it."

"She had ta go for a minute but she's com'n back ta where I am." He chewed on his thumbnail and mumbled his next sentence a bit. "If'n ya let me com' an' take a look's see, an' meet me, won't be a stranger to ya no more."

"Even if I show it to you it will be a waste of my time and yours." The woman sighed and then sucked in a deep breath. "The attic doesn't have its own kitchen, so I'd be sharing kitchen space with whomever. There's a bathroom up there but the plumbing needs to be renovated so I'd be sharing my bathroom with the renter until it's fixed. This place is big, I'm sure you've heard, but there's only the two working bathrooms, and pipes are about ready to burst as it is. So – not renting to you. Nope, no way."

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail some more, thinking fast. "How's 'bout ya consider rentin' ya attic ta my cat? See, I ain't so particular 'bout where I stay, hell, I can pitch a tent any ol' place outside, but he's real prissy an' dainty, ain't like gettin' his paws wet when it rains so's I'm sure he'd like the attic jus' fine."

Daryl cringed as the words came out, wondering why in the hell he wanted to see this woman's attic so badly. He figured he could just say to hell with it and start the process of buying one of those houses but something about the way everyone seemed to talk about her had him – intrigued. It was confusing him as he used Eye as a means to maybe get inside this woman's house. When he had been forced to listen to Karen's gossip she has said the woman was old, but Daryl wasn't good at judging someone's age over a phone. He thought maybe she was reluctant to rent to a man because of her age so he thought maybe he could convince her that having him around would scare off any threats. Daryl had been very fond of his grandparents, what little he could remember of them. He enjoyed the company of his elders so maybe that was why, he considered, as he waited for her to respond to him. But then again – she sure as fuck didn't sound old; her voice was tranquil and euphonious, and sort of soothing like a delicately constructed lullaby murmuring sweetly on the breeze after a steaming Georgia downpour.

"Your cat," She said a few seconds later, something akin to amusement laced in her voice. "You have a cat?"

"Yes ma'am I do. He's real messed up 'bout us movin' here an' I's been tellin' him I'd find us a nice attic ta live in."

"Why not just buy a house? Isn't that what people do when they move somewhere new?" She asked as he heard the sound of a screen door opening and shutting in the background. "That's what I did when I moved here."

Daryl glanced at the burned up butt between his fingers and went to drop it into his ashtray. "Lori Grimes tried 'er hardest but ain't nothin' I seen I was too thrilled about. I jus' got this new job an' I ain't wantin' ta buy a house yet till I know's I'ma be stickin' around. If I could jus' see ya place, jus' take a gander an' check it out I'd really 'ppreciate it."

"And Lori isn't with you now? She just left you wherever - ?"

"No ma'am," He sat up straight, hoping that was acquiescence he detected behind her question. "She went ta go pick Carl up? From a friend's house an' I stayed here in my truck in front o' the Buck Skin - she told me ta call an' see if you'd agree ta meet with me. If'n ya did, her an' Carl are gonna bring me on out."

"And she just gave you my number? Just like that?"

Daryl shifted in his seat. "'M sorry, that's kinda my fault. I bugged her 'bout ya attic…"

The woman on the line was silent and in the background he heard the distinct array of ducks quaking and the melodic humming of the June bugs singing and pullulating as the late afternoon sun began to fade into the horizon. Finally, she spoke once more. "So - what's your name, cat man?"

He took his thumb away from his mouth and cleared his throat, "Daryl, ma'am, Daryl Dixon."


	3. Bobo Baggins

Hi! :D Thank you for the reviews! So, here we jazz things up a bit with the chapter written in Carol's POV. Let's see how things go! I have edited this chapter so many times I'm really nervous about it! Please let me know what you think!

I do NOT own The Walking Dead.

Chapter Three

Bobo Baggins

The upheaval of fervor that Daryl Dixon caused in the humble town of Buckhead Georgia had even the tiniest of mouths talking rabidly about his appending arrival. Little Carl Grimes found the soft spoken redneck absolutely fascinating with his quiet explanations on the finer points and delicate virtuosities of crossbow hunting. Lori and Rick Grimes had invited Daryl to have dinner with them after she and Rick had ran into him during the following week as he stopped in at the Buck Skin before heading back to his trailer in Moline after spending the day at the new plant. The evening was very entertaining for all of them, and Carl had hung on his every word. Daryl and Rick fell into easy conversation afterwards while they drank two beers each in the living room as Lori cleaned up the kitchen and Carl listened excitedly as he sprawled on the floor and played with his Hot Wheels. Daryl explained how he had came upon the promotion that led him there and listened with interest as Rick offered more details about why everyone was so frantically ecstatic about the fertilizer plant. Apparently Herschel Greene had sold Philip Blake his back 40 acres and that was part of the land the plant was constructed on. Morgan County consisted mostly of farmers and small landscaping businesses, so the availability for good fertilizer was highly anticipated. The jobs the plant offered were expected to raise the poor economic standing and bring in more business for the farmers who sold their crops to bigger grocery chains around the state.

"I don't see why you're making such a huge deal out of this, Carol. We had him over for dinner again this week and Carl's just enamored with him." Lori Grimes and Carol Peletier were sitting outside in the stifling Georgia heat. They both watched Carl walk backwards as a trail of fluffy yellow baby ducklings followed along after him. The boy giggled, and Lori smiled before casting her gaze upon the woman sitting across from her, sipping at a tall glass of freshly made lemonade. "He was so… _forlorn_ - I couldn't help but feel sorry for him when he stopped in at the Buck Skin a few days ago. He's not having any luck finding a place."

"I don't see how that's my problem." Carol said warily, tucking the black shawl around her shoulders tighter around her small frame. She didn't want to meet this man the whole town was whispering about but she had agreed to let him come and see the attic – But only after he had agreed to a background search delving into his criminal past, medical history and credit reports. Reluctantly, Carol had to admit there was nothing in his past that hinted to violence or drug abuse. She was scared, and would never confess it to anyone here, not even Lori, who was pretty much her only friend. No one knew about her previous life, no one knew about the things Ed had done to her and no one knew what she had endured before she stumbled into Buckhead.

Lori sighed, fanning herself uselessly with her hand. "There isn't a lot of time for Daryl to have a chance to settle in someplace before the plant opens up. He didn't really say much about it but I know he's getting down about it. Actually if you're not talking to him about his work or finding a place to stay he doesn't say more than a few words at a time."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Carol sighed. "I don't understand why he just doesn't look into buying. And men like that just love talking about themselves – trust me, I'd know."

Lori shook her head knowingly. "Daryl isn't the type of egotistical man your thinking of, he's kinda shy from what I've seen of him - and I talked you into this because there is no harm _whatsoever _in letting him come and at least take a look at it. He's like a puppy looking for a home out of the rain." Lori shrugged. "And it's not that unusual. Fairly common now. A lot of people these days are renting rooms or small apartments. With how the market is? I'm lucky I still have a job. No one is buying anymore it seems."

"Fine," Carol set her glass down. "I still don't like it."

Carol looked out towards the gravel drive and huffed. She wasn't sure why she had felt the need to put the attic up for rent but she had. It was difficult times they lived in and offering an affordable living space to a struggling young woman in school had been her motivation when she reasoned with herself on the whys and what-for's.

"He's very, very handsome too. Ridiculously good looking." Lori said casually, "He's a little rough around the edges when he talks but that's part of his charm."

"I don't care what he looks like, Lori or how much charm he has. My concern lies in the worry that he ends up being an ax murderer and hacks me up in my sleep."

"No, Carol, he's soft spoken, has manners – I just meant he swears like a sailor – it's funny, he's funny and I don't even think he realizes -"

Carol cut her off. "It's always the quiet ones that end up being serial killers."

The other woman laughed. "Rick gave you every bit of information you asked for. Daryl Dixon has never even had so much as a traffic ticket."

"I still don't trust it." Carol shook her head, sitting back in her seat. "I saw a lot of police reports where Daryl Dixon was involved in bar fights and several parking lot brawls with his brother Merle Dixon."

"And he was never arrested for any crimes, besides; he's already explained to Rick how he'd follow his brother around like a dog until the older brother moved away after the dad that took off first. You know Daryl's never been on vacation or left the state of Georgia?"

Carol shook her head, "And what about this brother of his? Doing time for manufacturing meth? How do we even know this big time hot shot job isn't some cover to bring drugs into our community? We know nothing about him other than what he tells us and what we can read on his record."

"I'm not sure about his brother. Daryl's reluctant to talk about him too much. All he said was he's in prison for at least the next four years and he's the only family Daryl has left."

Carol scoffed, "Well, there you go. Nope, not gonna even let him inside. When he gets here, you can take him home with you and Carl and he can be your puppy."

"No, no, no, no," Lori held out a finger and shook her head. "You're showing him your attic."

"Why do you care so much? Is it because he's some hot shot?" Carol rolled her eyes and folded her arms under her chest.

"I'm – not sure." Lori swiped some of her long brown hair behind her ear. "He's just a nice guy. Dale told me he didn't care too much for the gossip he heard at the Buck Skin. And when I had him in my car he was so disgusted with what he heard that he had the grumpiest scowl on his face. I wasn't sure at first but he was definitely upset – He asked what was so strange about you that I didn't know what to say and kinda stared at him few a few minutes. And when he said he knew what it was like to be talked about, in such a sad voice, I told him a bit about when you came here. Told him to ignore Karen's gossip. Her issues are all fueled by jealousy anyways."

"Gossip about me," Carol asked pointedly.

"_Uhhh, yeah_ – Isn't that kinda nice to have someone you don't even know get pissed off for you on your behalf? I mean - You make them talk Carol. You drive the denizens crazy." She laughed. "From what Irma said, Karen was theorizing again about what it is that you do for a living. You're a crypt keeper, according to Beth and Karen says you're a fortune teller."

A tinkling of soft melodic laughter erupted from Carol. "That's a good one. Poor Beth, I'll have to ask if she's interested in buying a plot in the cemetery back in the woods behind the house."

"If they only knew the real truth," Lori replied, joining in on the laughter.

"Don't you feel special? You're the only person here who knows what I really do is -"

Carol stopped when the earthshaking claxon of a motorcycle engine rumbling in the distance filtered through the thick, suffocating Georgia heat. The two women stood and walked to the front steps of the wraparound porch. The trail of dust and dirt was seen first before the bike came into view. Carl Grimes was motionless too as he watched from where he still stood surrounded by baby ducklings. The driver and bike drew nearer and Lori laughed, stepping down the stairs with Carol hot on her heels. They walked over to join Carl and stared as the man turned down Carol's long drive. Coming to a stop next to Lori's S.U.V Daryl revved the engine before he kicked the stand down and turned the machine off. He was wearing a black helmet adorned in numerous stickers and as he took it off, Carl ran over and practically assaulted him. Carol couldn't see him very well but took note of his short, dirty blonde hair and facial scruff. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a sleeveless leather vest with blue jeans and big black boots. Carl was saying something to him then yelled out.

"Mom! Can I sit on it?"

Lori laughed again. "Yeah, just be careful."

Whooping out in enthusiastic joy, Carl climbed up the huge beast of a bike with help from the redneck. The man was sanding at an angle to them, and Carol watched as he peeled off fingerless black leather bike gloves. Carol let out a gasp as though she were somehow distraught.

"You didn't tell me he's in some motorcycle gang!" She hissed, hanging onto Lori's arm.

"What," Lori asked in amazement, looking at her friend now.

"That vest! Look at it!"

Both of them stared at his back and at the angel wing vest he wore. "Carol, even if he is in a motorcycle gang, did you know they advocate for women and children? Come on, let's go say hi."

"No, no, no, no, no," Carol was shaking her head emphatically, "He's into something hard, I can tell. Hardcore and very – bad."

"Yeah, he's been looking hard for a place to live." Lori gripped Carol's hand and pulled her forward towards her son and the angel vest clad redneck. "Very bad, yeah, badly in need of somewhere to live – now c'mon, give the poor guy a chance before you condemn him."

Carol didn't want to deal with this. She didn't care how nice he seemed or how badly he was looking to find some kind of temporary home – She didn't want him in her house. She wanted to rent to a struggling college girl, someone quiet and scholarly like she had been, once upon a time. A time when she had been full of naïve dreams of what the world could offer her and what was out there to be taken from that proverbial apple of knowledge and accomplishment.

"Hey Daryl, did you find the place okay?" Lori called out as she stepped around to ruffle Carl's hair as he sat on the big bike. "Good drive?"

Carol's eyes narrowed as the man turned to face them. The first detail of his face she noticed was the distinct mole near the upper corner of his mouth and another one, just above, which could also have been just a freckle – she wasn't quite sure. The crinkle of his mouth showed creases in his skin, laugh lines she supposed, and as he smirked slightly they accentuated the lift of his lips. Looking then, her gaze drifted along the thin articulators and as she studied the soft yet chapped appearance of them, his tongue flicked out to moisten them. Carol took a step back, averting her gaze down to the graveled ground.

"Yeah, weren't too hard ta find the place. Ya give good directions." The man said, and there it was again, that deep southern drawl from the phone the week before. "Stopped in for som' lunch first in town 'fore I headed out this way. Damn nice drive, beautiful day for it."

"Good," Lori replied, lifting Carl down from the motorcycle.

"Mom, can I show Daryl the duck pond?" Carl asked, with his small visage illuminated in adolescent joyfulness.

"Not right now baby, we gotta show Daryl Aunt Carol's attic."

The boy nodded, "I'm gonna go play. See ya, Daryl!" He waved to the man before he ran off towards the pond.

"Later, kid."

Carol finally looked back up and took in the rest of his face. He had moved, stepping forward with a hand lifted over his face to block out the rays from the sun. He was staring off into the distance to the thick wooded forest which surrounded the property three fourths of the way. The crows feet lining his eyes told her he was close to her own age and gave him the effect of someone who squinted a lot. Carol was taken aback when the man's eyes found hers, and they were so, so blue. They stared at one another, blue exploring blue, and his entire manner modified, and transformed. He became still, rigid in his stance and after several moments his gaze dropped as hers did just moments before. It was as though he was abruptly unsure of himself and his environment, and she wondered what had caused this sudden shift to his demeanor. Carol mustered up a smile, a genuine smile, as she considered Lori and then turned back to him. Later in the evening, when she was unaccompanied and quietly watching the sun fade away as she sipped her evening chamomile tea, Carol would think back to this moment and cringe, recalling just how coy and timid her smile had seemed.

Lori pressed her lips together as though holding back a giggle. "Daryl this is Carol Peletier, Carol, Daryl Dixon."

Daryl lifted his head and offered her a small smile, a shy smile and held out his hand. "Nice ta finally meetcha, Carol."

She took his hand, and shook it gently. His skin was rough, yet soft and she let go of it quickly. "You too, Daryl."

"There's a living room, a parlor, a lounge and a den – just fancy names for the period when the house was built. Nowadays all those could pass for being just a living room. There's a small family dining room and a formal dining room and an old area where the servants would eat their meals just off the kitchen which is now the laundry room. There's big, formal library too - Fourteen rooms altogether but not accounting the bedrooms, the cellar or the attic."

The three adults stood inside the foyer and Carol stood off to the side as Lori rattled on about the manor. She loved to listen to Lori in her element as she described the different rooms. Daryl was mostly silent but Carol could see he was in awe as they went from room to room. She felt a sense of pride from all the work she had put into her home. Standing in the doorway of the parlor Carol watched as Daryl ran his palm along the woodwork.

"Original?" He asked as he came across the pocket door which separated the parlor from the den. Pulling it out, he ran his fingers down the smooth wood, following the grains.

"Yes," Carol answered, "I had it refurbished."

"Ya did it yaself?" He asked, looking in her direction.

For just one second Carol was offended. How many times had Ed berated her efforts when she finished a project to make their not-so-happy-home more inviting, more colorful than it actually was? The lattice fence she had constructed around her flower garden, which she had spend hours fastidiously painting a light lavender, to almost perfectly match the shade of the violets? Only to have it smashed to smithereens in one of his violent drunken outburst because he claimed she spend more time on the fence than she did in cleaning the house, or washing his clothes or preparing his meals? Yet as she cast a narrow, hardened gaze upon the man smoothing his palm along the surface of the polished wood, in an almost reverent caress, and saw the honest question in his eyes, the offence transmuted into flattery against her own will, that he could possibly think she had done the work herself. Carol shook her head, "No, each room's been done by people I hire to come in and do it."

Daryl nodded his head. "Ain't did too bad a job for ya." He commented, inspecting the other side to the door, pulling it out and then pushing both back into their respective hidey slots.

Carol said nothing, only smiled and realized she was a lot more relaxed then she had thought she would be with a weird man inside her home, looking around and touching things. She watched his hands, how delicately they seemed to roam around on the wood surfaces. Carol got the impression that he was always this careful with the items he touched. He looked at her before he nodded again and left the room, heading back to the corridor. Carol made a face at Lori; the other woman just shrugged her shoulders, still entertaining that mischievous simper she had been harboring since Daryl had arrived.

Catching up to Daryl, Lori redirected him down another hallway and pushed open a rather large, impressive door. "This is the library. Do you like to read?"

Entering the room, the hunter emitted a low, lingering whistle. "Ain't been able ta read as much as I'd like ta, but damn – a person could git lost in here."

Winking at Carol, Lori nodded in agreement. "There are three levels. Carol loves to read, don't you, Carol?"

The tiny woman shrugged. "Guess you might say that."

"Might say I gotta start readin' som' mor'."

Lori laughed, and winked at Carol once again.

The trio walked up the main staircase to the second floor landing. Just as Lori opened her mouth to start up again, her phone started buzzing frantically. Digging it out of her purse she started running her fingers all along the screen.

"It's Rick," Lori sighed, looking up at the two of them. "Some kind of emergency and I have to go."

"Oh, I hope everything's okay." Carol said concern evident in her tone. "Want me to watch Carl for you?"

"No, I'm sure it's nothing. Probably police business and he just wants me at home. He'd never say that but I'm sure that's the issue. He's so dang over-protective." Lori rolled her eyes as she stashed her phone back into her purse. "Carol, you need me to reschedule this or can you show Daryl the attic?"

She bit her bottom lip and worried it as she glanced toward the silent man. He was gazing at a portrait on the wall with his hands stuffed into his pockets. As though he could feel her eyes on him he turned his head and strolled over to her but paused and placed one of his hands on the banister post of the staircase.

"I can go. I 'ppreciate ya letting' me com' an' look at ya home – ya done good on it – real fuckin' good…." Daryl averted his gaze and spoke to the floor as he said this. "Ain't gotta reschedule. Thinkin' I'ma start lookin' over in Griffin. I saw they's some apartments for rent."

He looked up then and their eyes crashed together. That was when Carol recognized the forlorn dejectedness in his eyes that Lori must have seen numerous times already. He did remind her of an animal lost outside in the rain only wanting a hand to offer it shelter from the storm. But could she? The one thing Carol could detect was that he screamed sincerity. There was nothing false about his body language or the inflection of his tone. She knew that Lori had been right. Daryl wasn't the kind of man she had envisioned him to be inside her mind. He wasn't out to trick her but – Could she invite him inside? Inside her home where she could just be herself and do her work and sleep until noon if she so desired to. Eat ice cream right from the carton and lounge around in her pajamas all day long? Inside where she was always safe? Safe from hurtful glares and words that crushed and would he become demanding of her? Would he expect his food to be cooked for him and his clothes washed? What did he want from her? And why did this insistent echo in her brain demand that she invite him upstairs, that first step towards a permanent venture, to find out exactly what he did want from her – from this.

"Okay, well, I'll walk you out Daryl." Lori was heading down the stairs and as Daryl inclined his head at Carol, he started down the stairs after Lori.

"Wait," Carol shook her head and took several steps to the staircase. "You drove out all this way – and – You've agreed to everything I asked of you. Letting Rick pull up your background and – being patient – I can at least show you the space."

Pausing on the steps he lifted his hand and chewed on his thumbnail a bit before he spoke. "Ya sure, I mean – I understand, ya kno'?"

"I'm sure, come on. Bye Lori." Carol waved to her friend who was at the bottom of the staircase. "I'll call you."

Lori waved back, winking at her. "Okay. Bye Daryl."

"Bye." He said, lifting his hand in farewell.

"Good lord," Daryl muttered, as he gazed around the huge, empty space of the attic. "Thought it was jus' an old servants livin' area."

Carol stepped slowly in a small circle as she surveyed the attic. "It was until I rearranged a few things. I had them knock out a couple of walls and clear out all the old junk that wasn't worth anything or didn't add to the character of the house. There's an L-shaped wall I had them leave where the old bedroom was next to the Dutch windows. It's mostly just one big open room now, a lot of space, as big as the house anyways – save for a few older rooms on the other side – I use one as a sewing room. Here, I'll show you where the bedroom was."

They walked toward the front of the attic.

"There are three sets of stairs that come up here. The one we just came up," which was located through a wide door directly across from the main staircase, "and then this one here, through this door where the bedroom was."

Carol pointed at a lone door that was connected to the L-shaped wall which looked like an entrance to a small closet. She walked over and opened it. "It leads straight down into the main kitchen. The steps are narrow though."

Daryl joined her and looked down the constrictive staircase. "So's the servants could start up breakfast."

"Yep, it's neat, huh?" Carol grinned as she switched on a light just along the wall inside. "I always wanted an old house like this, always."

Daryl smiled softly, "Yeah, real neat." He stepped back and went over to the Dutch windows, and looked out. "Ya home is real nice."

She flicked the light off, "Thanks. So – all this open space is what is up for rent. I think it would compute into a lovely apartment, like an efficiency only bigger."

He turned, "Gotta tell ya, it's exactly the kinda place I were interested in." He uttered quietly, gently, as his greenish blue stare drifted to and fro against the wide expanse of attic space.

Carol worried her lip some more, confused and frightened yet expectant and energized about how at ease she felt being alone in her home with this solemn, tacit man. During the previous week she had been outraged, livid, that Lori had given out her private cell phone number. That she had had the audacity to think Carol would even entertain the notion of renting to an unknown male. It was her friend whom most of the anger was directed towards, no matter how much she had wanted to curse and abhor the man on the phone and yet in the very recesses of her mind Carol couldn't get that soft, lingering drawl to cease from echoing sweetly in her ears. And over the course of the week as she read and reread the documents bearing witness to every non-existent transgression he had ever committed, Carol was unable to push aside the pleading cajole of his vocals as he made the humorous statement about renting her attic to his cat. That minuscule taunting in the forefront of her thoughts that she desired to lay aside each and every fearful emotion and set her gaze upon the vista of that deep, soothing drawl, would not let her be. And now that he was here in front if her, a tangible, prowling figure she could reach out and touch if she so wished it, Carol could not deny to herself that she wasn't intricately fascinated with him. And this scared her more than anything.

She cleared her throat, "That bathroom I was telling you about is over here."

Coming away from the window he followed her to another door, and once again, just briefly, their eyes met. She pushed it open wide, to allow Daryl to enter first and as he brushed past her, she caught the scent of him – It was earthen and woodsy, and underneath that pleasantly attractive aroma was a clean freshly washed scent – almost floral, and full of nature, and it reminded her of the way the magnolias smelled after a brisk shower of rain coated them in wetness.

"Everything inside is new, the claw tub, the toilet, and the sink. These old pipes just need replaced." She remarked, coming in after him. "I'm not exactly sure but I think there are six bathrooms altogether. Just the one on the second floor and the one in my room work – but as I said, the pipes make noise and clatter and shake when I run the water. Most of the others were add on's within the past 50 years. The one in the master bedroom and one or two built on to the other bedrooms. One in the cellar – I hardly use the other rooms so I'm not sure…"

Carol trailed off as she watched him inspect the tub.

"If ya let me rent ya attic, I'll have the plumbin' taken care of. All o' it. The whole house."

Sighing thoughtfully, she wrapped her arms around her torso and sucked in a deep breath. Tilting her head, she sought his gaze as he turned and faced her. "Mr. Dixon, I have to ask you – Why do you want to rent my attic?" Carol was curious of this, and her tone reflected that curiosity. After the week she had just spent obsessing over the man behind that soft, sullen drawl, she had to know his reasoning.

"Daryl."

"Daryl – There are houses for rent, small ones; you don't really have to buy anything if that's the issue."

The man sighed and lowered his head. "Honestly?"

"That would be nice…"

He shrugged, still not looking at her. "Pissed me off when that brayin' donkey in the Buck Skin wouldn't shut her fuckin' mouth. On an' on an' on she go – Worse than a broken record. Hatin' on a woman I ain't knowed, an' psychic fairs an' fortunetellin' – Creepy farm house – After a bit, jus' couldn't git ya name an' ya attic outta my thoughts…" Flicking his eyes up he met her stare before looking down again. "Couldn't git _you_ outta my head."

Carol pursed her lips and tried not to laugh. "You don't even know me, so, why would that make you so upset?"

"Jus' did." Daryl looked at her then and shrugged. "Kept sayin' som' old crazy cat lady with a flock o' noisy ducks was holed up here with no job an' I didn't particularly see nothin' wrong wit' that – I ain't one ta go gallaventin' 'round town an' I ain't one for big crowds. I ain't very sociable maself…so, I figures I git along well wit' older folks – an' if I could meet this Carol lady, I'd convince her I'd be a big help wit' keepin' the assholes away."

"So you've been thinking this entire time I was some old lady who needed a body guard to – what? - keep people away from me?" Carol laughed, holding her hand up to her mouth, her face crimsoning prettily with mirth and delight. "A grouchy, heavy-handed, fifty-cat-harboring handbag waving granny? Hobbling around the streets, flogging unsuspecting people with her cane?"

"Yeah, guess so." Daryl sighed, and started back through the door with his face tinted in embarrassment.

Carol startled herself as she took back the hand that she had began to reach out to him. Shaking her head, she followed close behind as he started muttering again getting more and more embarrassed, and upset with himself.

"Reminded me o' every shit talker back in my home town an' how they's whisperin' every time I came through a door. Jus' another shit for brains, good for nothin', ignorant Dixon – So… I kno' ya ain't som' old woman now – knowed it the minute I saw ya, an' I's sorry if ya was offended, I ain't meant ta think ya were old an' needin' whatever I thought it were ya needed.."

"It's my hair." She blurted out, wanting to put him back at ease, to wipe away the shame on his face.

Daryl looked confused. "Huh?" He said as he faced her.

"My hair it's grey. It's why so many of them think I'm so old." Carol shrugged casually. "I've been told it makes me look old and ugly. I'm use to the whispering, and I'm use to the funny stories. It's just Karen."

"Huh? No, nah, ya ain't old an' ya sure as fuck ain't - What's that gotta do wit' anything?" He scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Ain't ya hair, that woman jus' wants ta be a bitch cause she jealous she didn't git ya house that she wanted."

"Lori told you that didn't she?"

He nodded, "Sure did, yeah."

They stood in silence just staring at one another.

"Are you an honest man, Daryl Dixon?"

He nodded, "Yes, ma'am." He drawled smoothly, giving her that soft, almost shy smile again. "Reckon I try'n be as honest as I can. Growin' up Dixon didn't help me out much – but in the end, ain't very fond o' bein' deceptive."

"I believe you." She smiled back and started off toward the middle of the attic to get them away from that conversation, "But, that other staircase I mentioned? It only goes down to the second floor, into what use to be the nursery which is also connected to the master bedroom – my room now. But I use the old nursery as my personal office – I conduct most of my work there." She pointed to the mentioned door and laughed. "I believe one of the rooms I had them disassemble when walls were removed, was a living space for a nanny. The doors wouldn't appear so random if the rooms were still present." Carol shrugged lightly as she smiled to him, knowing she had made her decision. "So, there are a few rooms up here that just hold junk and whatnots – my sewing room, but the rest of this open space is what's up for rent, as I said before. Do you have any questions?"

"The forest, how much o' it is yours?"

"Every bit," She answered, looking at him.

"I enjoy a bit o' huntin'."

Carol appeared horrified. "No, no, no – I hate guns and I have ducks, and none of their wings are clipped, they stay here willingly, and I want it to stay like that and I don't want them getting scared hearing gun shots echoing all over the property and – no, no hunting."

Daryl shook his head. "I ain't gonna use a gun when I hunts. I uses a crossbow an' I'd never hurt any o' ya ducks, 'sides, I ain't ever hunted duck. I only hunt deer an' rabbits, an' snakes, them wild boars, wild turkeys 'round Thanksgiving an' som'tim's I see a quail or som' shit, but mostly jus' squirrels. I enjoy bein' outside an' sometimes I ain't catchin' nothin' at all jus' like bein' out, surrounded by nature an' shit, focusin' on my Zen an' ch'i, ya kno'?"

"Squirrels," she asked, tilting her head a little. "You hunt them? What do you do with the animals you kill?"

Daryl shrugged, "Skin 'em an' cook 'em, I ain't killin' nothin' I ain't eatin' for supper."

"You eat squirrel? I've never met anyone who ate squirrel before. I mean, I know people eat it I just never..."

"I git what ya tryin' ta say... Yeah, they ain't too bad if ya kno' how ta cook 'em right."

Carol nibbled on her bottom lip. "Stupid squirrels get into my duck feed and I don't have the heart to poison them like it was suggested to me. But… if they were killed for food – for someone's meal, there'd be less of them getting into my shed and a hot, meaty – squirrely dinner for someone who's hungry."

Daryl inclined his head in agreement. "Reckon so, I'm sure. Hav' ya ever had squirrel"

"No, I never have."

"Ya in for a treat then, ain't'cha?" And he smiled that smile again.

Carol smiled back, her face crinkling prettily. "I'm sure I am."

Carol guided Daryl to the formal dining room and set out all of the rental agreement documents.

"Since you're not sure about an exact amount of time you're interested in renting from me, why don't we set it up month by month? And when you decide you're ready to move out just give me thirty days notice or if you figure out an exact length of time, we can sit back down and write out another agreement? How does that sound?"

He nodded, sucking on his lips.

"And you're okay with the agreed rental amount?"

Again, he nodded.

"I see no reason to require a pet deposit for one cat – You do have a cat, right?"

"Yes ma'am, he's a good boy. Ain't gotta worry 'bout him none. He won't harass ya ducks or make trouble for your cat."

Wiggling the pen between her fingers Carol chuckled. "She'll be happy to have a feline friend to chase around." Pushing over the papers, she pointed with the pen. "Sign here – and here – and then date and initial here."

He hesitated. "Ya sure ya okay with this? Coss, I understand ya reluctance."

She lifted her shoulders and Carol made a face as though considering how to word her next statement. In the past five years she had never spoken of her life with Ed. Not even to Lori whom was only privy to the fact that Carol had escaped from a bad marriage – The violence, the horrific beatings, the broken bones, the total and utter departure of her self-worth and dignity, was all kept inside her where no one could touch it.

"It was caution. I - My ex-husband, Ed, he wasn't a nice man. I'm suspicious of most people now…especially men - and I'm afraid I won't ever get over that. But - you're a good man. I've ignored bad vibes I've gotten in the past, which is how I ended up married to Ed. I don't ignore my gut feelings any more, and my gut is telling me you're a decent, honest man. Your clean background was a major factor in what my gut said which I will admit, I was looking for any tiny hint of violence, - domestic abuse, drug abuse, violence caused by alcohol consumption... and then with some insight from Lori I got, my minds made up – So, I'm happy to rent you – and your cat – my attic."

Daryl sighed, "I do drink every now an' again. Ain't never gotten violent but I have been known ta be a dick som'times when I do. Ain't often an' it's mostly my brother which set me off but – nowadays, jus' a beer or two after work, or I waits an' has it with my supper."

Carol nodded, and offered him a smile. "I drink occasionally, about the same, a beer or two. But I know you're not tricking me, you see, and that's what I was so cautious of. My experience with the men in my life, not so good. So, if you're as honest as you appear to be… We're going to get along just fine."

She met his blue steely stare, and felt something clench inside her chest. Carol wasn't a woman who catered to flights of fancy or believed in fairy tale-esque happy endings – No, not at all. But something in his eyes made a connection, deep inside that quiet, hollow space within, and she knew this was a man who recognized that certain brand of pain one could only identify with if they themselves had experienced it at one time or another. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. The way he moved the way he spoke, the way his eyes didn't entirely engage during casual conversation. She knew because she was the same.

"Nah, I ain't – I mean I'm jus' – I won't ever try an' trick ya or leave in the middle o' the night. Jus' want a place ta com' home to when I leave the plant in the evenin's. I ain't gonna be in ya way or – mess up ya life none. An' after a bit, if it seems I'ma be fittin' in okay, I'ma git outta ya hair an' buy my own place."

His words held an inflection of promise, and as they locked their eyes, some kind of confidence was formed. The resignation of formality was dropped and he picked up a pen to sign the rental papers. And as that little smile, soft and shy, curled his lips as he scribbled his name, Carol knew a tentative friendship had just been formulated. But on what grounds, she wasn't quite sure of yet but she was unabashedly eager to discover its journey and sail along to wherever it would eventually deliver them and reveal the designated culmination. Besides her parents and a college roommate she'd only ever shared a living space with Ed so how she and Daryl would coexist made the journey only more anticipant.

So again, Carol took control of the conversation and directed it to a livelier topic.

"So, are you…in a biker gang?" Carol laughed, holding one palm over her cheek while she tapped the pen on the table with her other hand and watched him. "Your vest – It's very interesting, angel wings?"

"Pffftttt," Daryl sniggered, shaking his head and tapped the end of his pen on his palm as he sat back in the formal dining chair. "Nah, the Triumph outside, ain't my bike, I has an old ford pick-up. 'S my brother's bike. Weren't gonna do nothin' wit' it but I's thinkin' why let the bike deteriorate in a garage, ya kno'? Ain't the bikes fault Merle's a fuckin' dumbass."

There was a tiny lift of his mouth. "The vest was jus' som'thin' I found in a thrift shop an' I liked it. Reckon if'n I were in som' motorcycle gang, I'd git my ass kicked for bein' a pussy – least that's what my brother would say."

"Well, he's not here now, is he?"

"No ma'am."

They fell into a peaceful silence as he finished signing the rest of the documents.

"Have any more questions?" She asked him as he pushed the papers back over to her.

"Can't think o' none," He jerked his chin at her. "Ya got any for me?"

"How old are you?"

"Forty-one," lowering his gaze to the tabletop, he started chewing on his thumbnail.

"I'm forty-three, almost forty-four." She offered, gathering up the documents. "You have a girlfriend, or lady friend I should know about? Speaking of which, I'm giving you two keys. One to the front door and one for the side entrance, the kitchen to be exact. Don't go making any copies for anyone. And I really don't want any overnight guests staying – unless its family, of course, just give me a heads up on that. A few days warning."

"Ain't got no girlfriend o' any kind – An' my only kin is my brother. Should be outta ya hair by the time he gits out."

Standing, Carol grinned, "A handsome fella like yourself? And all the single women in this town?"

Daryl scoffed, pushing away from the table to stand up. "Ain't into all that. Jus' here ta do my job."

_Was he blushing? _

The color of his cheeks spread to his ears and she had to suppress the gentle giggle she felt bubbling in her throat. Carol could hardly fathom her uncharacteristic ease with this shy, quiet man, with whom some foreign comradeship had just been farrowed and as they departed the dining room she found herself chatting idly about the manor and the forest that surrounded it. She showed him the second floor bath, and pointed out where her bedroom was. They came across Bitsy, Carol's cat, and the feline seemed almost dismissive of the strange human in her domain but she did allow the redneck to pet her and run his fingers along her spine.

"Pretty girl, wha' kinda cat is she? A calico?" Daryl asked as Bitsy scampered down the corridor.

"Close," She responded. "She's a tortishell. Bitsy is very, very vocal and will speak her mind around you. She'll let you know if she thinks she needs more food in her bowl and fresher water in her dish. And sometimes she'll just wanna chat… I'm really happy that you like cats… A lot of people don't…"

Daryl grunted humorously as they descended the staircase. "I always has, enjoy animals in general. Respect 'em, even the ones I hunts an' eats. Eye is always purrin' an' wantin' ta be on ya lap. Enjoys bein' outside wit' me when I's huntin'. Ain't been able ta do much o' that for awhile."

"The woods are deep and go on for miles and miles. You'll run into a fence that separates my property from the Greene farm but you have to go pretty far to run into it."

"I like that I ain't too far from the fertilizer plant."

"The plant is just far enough away I can pretend it doesn't exist. That's what I like."

Daryl nodded, not sure what to say to that. "Heard they's a cemetery out there too."

She laughed, "Oh yeah, equipped with a creepy path, lined with stones, just like the one from that Stephan King book."

"Shit, really? That kid creeps me out – ain't read the book but I seen the movie."

"I have all his books, they're in the library. Feel free to browse the books if you want."

They stopped outside the kitchen and Carol motioned to a door. "That door right there is the one that goes all the way up to the attic to the other door I showed you. There's a light switch at both ends so you don't have to walk up in the dark."

Daryl opened it and glanced up, flipping the switch on and off. "Good deal. Can com' right to the kitchen when I wants a snack."

She smiled sweetly. "Or make coffee in the morning. You drink coffee?"

"Yes ma'am," he shut the door and turned into the kitchen. "Can drink two pots all maself."

"You're gonna have to share now." She went over to where the coffee maker was and leaned against the counter. "You can share, can't you?"

Daryl nodded swiftly as the corners of his mouth curled upwards into a youthful smile, his entire face seeming to show off his boyish features. "Can share the coffee, yeah. Can you?"

Caro l grinned, "Coffee I can share. Its other things I can't share because I like them too much."

"Like what?"

"Hm," She went to the refrigerator and pulled it open. "Nothing in here – I'm not too picky about food in general. You see something you wanna eat, go for it."

She closed it and turned to enter the vast walk-in pantry. "But, I will not share my peanut butter. Nope, no way – buy your own and put your name on it or I will eat it."

"Ya the creamy or crunchy peanut butter type," he asked, still standing by the coffee maker as he watched her with that tiny smirk of his mouth.

"Creamy. Definitely," She said with resolution.

"I'm the crunchy type," Daryl said, bumping his hip on the counter.

"Oh, and never go eating my tomato soup. I'm addicted to it – and that goes for my tomato juice and vegetable juice – in fact all my juice is off limits to you, mister bowman."

Carol grinned as she looked over her huge supply of bottled juices, canned food, and boxed meals. She knew how it felt to be hungry. Ed had deprived her of food many times when she was married to him so she over stocked on food and juice. Carol frowned darkly as she remembered the instances when Ed had not allowed her any food or nourishment for a random amount of days because he said her ass was getting fat or her flabby stomach disgusted him. She had become so malnourished and emaciated at times he had beaten her almost to death for not being able to cook his food and clean the house. He finally stopped when he realized he would have no reasonable explainable to give to the doctors at the hospital if she had to go in. So, he let her eat but made derisive comments the entire time, and still restricted her food intake. She was rid of him now.

Carol stepped out of the pantry and sighed, smiling a bit to cover up her dark thoughts. Daryl was chewing on his thumbnail again which was something she noticed he did quite a lot. He was staring at her intently and she got the distinct impression he had been staring at her legs, perhaps even her ass, as his eyes drew downwards. Pausing in the doorway she watched him watching her. Had Daryl even noticed she had moved? Usually, when men looked at her as he was, tiny shudders of revulsion traversed her skin as though millions of creepy crawly snakes were burrowing deep into her soul. Ed had mutilated her self-esteem so drastically that underneath the cover she wore in front of people there was a frightfully insecure woman, flinching in apprehension and disgust if anyone showed any interest in her. She couldn't stand to be touched and even a gesture as simple as a hug had her unmoving and palpitating with fear inside.

This man's eyes held a glint of appreciation, a daunting hint of concern almost, as he looked at her. It was fascinating in a way she couldn't comprehend. She didn't think she appeared any different than she normally did. This wasn't the first time she had noticed him watching her as they wandered around the house. That morning she had thrown on a comfortable pair of worn jeans and a red tank top, topped off with a black shawl – which gave her comfort, to have something hugging her shoulders, something to tug around her frame for support and unconscious reassurance she needed unknowingly. Her feet were draped with simple flip-flops, red, to match her shirt. Carol rarely indulged in cosmetics and make-up but she did like to paint her toe nails so they were coated in a light summery sky blue, so as she thought about them, she wiggled her toes and almost laughed when Daryl's eyes went wide and he finally averted his gaze upwards once more.

"You paying attention?" She folded her arms and tilted her head playfully. "Or you too busy looking at my toes?"

"Huh," He fumbled away from the counter and shook his head, a frightful evince plastered on his features. "No! Was jus' thinkin'- I mean, ya sandals match ya shirt – was jus' thinkin' how coordinated ya looked."

"So you don't like my toes, is that it?" She teased, hardly wondering what the hell she was doing. She wasn't like this – she never teased anyone let alone a strange man she had just agreed to rent her attic too. But Daryl Dixon didn't feel as though he were just some strange man. Deep down, Carol felt as if she'd always known him.

"No, I like ya toes jus' fine, they's real tiny an' look nice in the paint ya done 'em up in. Weren't thinkin' nothin' bad, - but I weren't…" Daryl was flustered, his ears turning pink as he blundered around for words that seemed to evade him.

"Daryl, it's okay, I was just teasing you, giving you a hard time because you looked so deep in thought." Shaking her head she passed him and headed back out to the hallway. As she looked back to him she noted he was only several inches taller than her, and she enjoyed how they were almost eye to eye when facing one another.

"Laundry is around the corner here," She pointed to an open doorway and beyond where the washer and dryer were. "Do you – are you gonna do your own washing?"

"Been doin' my own washin' since I was knee-high to my crossbow." He looked in and smirked. "They's them real fancy like ones. Ya might gotta show me how ta use 'em but I ain't never gonna let ya touch my dirty clothes."

"Why not," she laughed, "You got cooties or something?"

Daryl nodded, "Or som'thin'." He colored again, and she was happy he was joking with her.

"Wanna meet my ducks?"

The flustered man nodded, relief apparent on his face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

There were several different breeds of ducks that Carol tended and coddled, and they all were spoiled in some kind of way. Each duck had a name and Carol would swear up and down each one knew their name and came to her when she called it. They were domesticated, happy-go-lucky and at ease around humans. The spring ducklings squeaked and hurried forward as they recognized their care giver coming toward them, knowing treats and cuddles awaited them. During the warmer seasons the flock nested and stayed mostly by the pond that dominated a reasonable amount of land on the western part of the property. Wild flowers and tall grass swayed in the warm gentle spring breeze, and Carol was pleased that Daryl appeared to take an interest in her ducks. She had had ducks as a little girl and always dreamed of caring for a larger flock. She loved them dearly, and appreciated each one as an individual, with their own unique personalities.

Kneeling down, Carol stopped several feet from the edge of the water. She had brought out a sack of duck feed she had scooped up from a huge barrel, from the shed, which she had shown Daryl so he'd know where to keep an eye out for troublesome squirrels. Scooping a hand full of feed, she cooed and murmured to the ducklings as they excitedly nibbled and ate from her hand.

"I hand feed each and every one directly after they hatch – so they know the touch of a human straight from birth. Here," she nodded to the sack of duck food. "Go ahead; they will love you forever if you give them treats."

Daryl hunkered down opposite her and dipped his hands into the sack, filling his palms with feed. Holding them out, several ducklings came to him and started nibbling and burrowing their tiny beaks into the food. Carol grinned brightly as he laughed a deep pleasurably sensual sound that made her look up at him. He really was handsome, ridiculously good-looking just as Lori had said he was.

"They sure is little things, how old is they," he asked, gazing over to her, his face scrunched up from the high sun in his eyes. He looked boyish and handsome, his smile soft and curious.

"Just a week," she answered, wiping her hands on her jeans once they nibbled up the last tiny bits. "Oh, here comes my good old boy."

A mallard was waddling hastily to them, making quiet grunting sounds before he reached Carol and nudged her hands with his beak. He nipped at her fingers affectionately, searching out for his special treat.

"This is Bobo Baggins, and he loves his Cheerios." She dug into her pocket and brought out a plastic zip-lock. "He was my first duck since I was just a little girl. I got him for Easter two years before I found this place."

Daryl wiped his hands off on his pants and picked up a duckling, cradling the baby in his hands. "Baggins? As in Frodo an' Bilbo Baggins?"

"Yes, just like them." Carol laughed, holding out a handful of Cheerios. "Bobo's left the Shire to live in Georgia."

Daryl set the baby duck down and reached into the plastic zip-lock bag, gathering up the tiny round treats. Holding his hand out, he offered them to the mallard that turned from Carol's hand to his.

"Nice ta meet'cha, Bobo, names Daryl."

The duck quacked, as though acknowledging this new human who fed him his special treat.

"He likes you." Carol smiled happily, laughing as Bobo gobbled up most of the Cheerios and then sought out the ones that had fallen to the ground.

Soon the entire flock had surrounded them and Daryl assisted Carol in distributing the rest of the feed.

"The white Peking duck with the grey and black speckles is Pepper, and she's Bobo's special gal."

Almost knowing she was being spoken about, Pepper the duck waddled over, squawking loudly. She nibbled at Daryl, nipped at Carol affectionately and went back to eating with the other ducks, staying close to Bobo.

"She can get pretty loud in the early mornings, all the females do – I'm use to it, but I know it can get annoying. I hope it doesn't bug you too much."

He scoffed, tossing out the last of the feed from the sack. "Told that donkey at the Buck Skin ducks is ducks, they's happy an' wanna let everyone kno' 'bout it. Ain't never gonna hear me complain 'bout ya ducks, hell, they's part of nature, an' I enjoy the way nature sounds."

He sighed, and knelt down on his legs, watching the ducks around them.

"Didn't like the way she trash talked the ducks – it's another reason I wanted ta meet ya an' see ya attic. Ya never kno' - people like that might do sum'thin' nasty – harmin' animals they ain't like. That dumb bitch has it in for ya. Ya don't spend that much time jawin' trash 'bout som'one that jus' pisses ya off o'er som'thin' as trivial as a house they didn't git."

Daryl's voice was hard and tainted with an emotion she didn't quite recognize, but knew it was sincere – for her and her ducks. She smirked a bit at him calling Karen a bitch – she was a bitch, and they had got off on the wrong foot straight from the start.

"You haven't asked me what I do for a living." Carol changed the subject, wanting that sad wary expression on his visage to fade away.

He smirked, standing back up and shuffling his boot in the tall, wild grass. "Ya mean ya ain't no fortune teller? Shit, I wanted ya ta read my palm."

A huge grin brightened his face for just one moment before it withered away and a formulation of stupor replaced it. "'M sorry, didn't mean nothin' by it. I kno' ya ain't no fortune teller. Shouldn't'a said it."

Carol chuckled, holding out her hand to try and placate him. "Daryl, its fine. I know you were joking. . . .You can joke with me; it's perfectly okay to joke around – I want you to." She waited for him to nod then continued speaking. "In fact, Lori just told me before you got here earlier what they were saying about me that day you were in town. Fortune teller, crypt keeper - scary librarian – I've heard it all since I came to live here and I think it's hilarious."

He was watching her and relaxed just a bit. "Can ya understand mor' now, 'bout why I wanted ta meet ya?"

She nodded, laughing as she met his blue stare. "Yeah, I see the attraction there. I'd wanna meet the village chiromancer too."

"Pfftt," he chuckled in return, that small soft simper on his face that she was becoming quite fond of, and shook his head. "Stop it."

She burst out in comfortable, illumining laughter


	4. Bang! Bang! Bang!

HI everyone! I am such an IDIOT D: I realized I was uploading un-edited chapters! DX I have fixed this! It took me a bit but I have it all worked out now… Sorry for this… I guess one must learn by making mistakes. Each one has a few hundred words extra than the one that was there before. I don't except anyone to go back and re-read them, because there isn't much of a difference. Just some added dialog and a few silly details added I thought of as I proofed them the last time. :/ And! Oh, the reviews have been wonderful! Thank you so so so so so much! I've been sharing them with my mom and she's thankful too! ^^ Sorry again for any confusion and my ignorance! Much love to all who take the time to read my silly tale! 3 Please let me know what you think of this chapter. It floats back and forth from both POV's.

I do NOT own The Walking Dead.

Chapter Four

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The days leading up to Daryl's pending move to Buckhead were pretty much uneventful until the beginning of the new week. A pleasant discovery was brought to his attention as he was leaving work on Tuesday afternoon, after spending most of his morning in Milton's office taking notes as he listened in on several conference calls with various other Directing Managers, learning their names, where they were located and interjecting occasionally when problems or issues were discussed, when he heard his name called out from across the parking lot.

"Yo, Daryl!"

Turning, he jerked his head in greeting at the man jogging toward him and the Triumph. "T-Dog, hey man."

The two men greeted each other with a fist bump.

"Guess who got promoted to your training team over in Buckhead?" The dark skinned man grinned, folding his arms across his broad chest.

"No, shit?" Daryl said as he put his helmet under his arm to appraise the man standing in front of him.

"No shit, brah, I'm moving up there this Friday. Got a cousin who already lives up there, names Oscar… He's already got himself a new job at the plant." T-Dog nodded at Daryl pointedly, "He tells me you have something to do with that."

Glancing up to the sky as though in deep consideration the tracker nodded his head slowly and then looked back to his coworker, his friend and recalled all the years they had worked side by side. Daryl and Theodore, T-Dog, had been working side by side for just over ten years. When the first promotion had been given, T-Dog had been the first to congratulate him and the one to convince him that nothing had changed. Daryl had been worried in the beginning that the people he worked with would consider him unworthy of stepping up and running their sector. But Dog had been right, nothing had changed, and it even appeared that some had seen his promotion as a sign of good will that promotions were given to those who worked hard, and those of any social background, and not just to people who kissed ass or pretended to know the right people.

"Ya cousin came in an' I interviewed 'im. He has a good workin' background, so's I seen no reason not ta giv' 'im a job." He explained matter-of-factly with a brief shrug of his shoulders.

T-Dog sighed with a lop-sided grin, "Well, he just got out of the penitentiary so I appreciate you giving him a chance. He hasn't had much luck finding work and his parole officer was threatening to send him back for breaking his parole agreements."

Scoffing, Daryl rolled his eyes in irritation. "The judicial system, it's nothin' but a fuckin' pile 'o bullshit. They's expectin' parolee's ta find work but they ain't makin' it no easier for 'em ta do it. They ain't findin' work so's they right back inta the shit they was doin' ta git lock'd up in the first place."

"Fuckin' right, man – Oscar, he was in some hard shit there for awhile. Runnin' around with the wrong sorts, getting' in over his head. He'd be okay for a time but then he'd be right back in with his old crew. He's a good worker when he has his head on straight, so I appreciate you giving him this job. I coulda easily gone down that road and been in the same situation."

"Yep, jus' like me an' Merle." Daryl chuckled cynically, knowing how easy it can be to run with a crowd when your options seem dismal and hopeless.

"Right, right, it's all about choices."

The two men spent a few more minutes talking before Daryl asked, "So ya movin' up there on Friday?"

"Yep, I rented a U-Haul for the weekend. Hey, did you ever find a place to lay your boots down in the evenings?" T-Dog pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds and offered one to Daryl. "I remember you saying something about an attic a couple weeks ago you wanted to see about ?"

"Yeah," Taking the cigarette he fished a lighter out of the saddle bag on the side of the bike, and lit it. "Rentin' the space from som'one jus' outside o' town, jus' a hop an' a skip to work so's I'm happy 'bout that. When did ya find out you was bein' relocated? Ain't seen ya 'round there."

"Just found out last week." T-Dog blew out a cloud of smoke. "You a hard man to track down these days, brah."

Daryl shook his head. "Mamet been havin' me do tha hirin' an' shit, meetin' wit' the corporate assholes from Woodbury – that's what I were doin' yesterday. Shit, ya ain't never wanna spend no time in Woodbury, it's the fuckin' twilight zone… Everyone's smilin' at'cha an' askin' ya how ya are an' if ya want som'thin' an' then they's askin' if ya wont mor' o' it…"

"Daryl, man, ain't you one'a them corporate assholes now?" T-Dog grinned, showing off the gap between his two front teeth.

"Pfftt, nah, don't even say that to me." Daryl laughed, shook his head and continued. "Workin' wit' all the shift managers an' the engineers, makin' sure the shit ain't breakin' down – an' it's funny, when the machinery is brand spankin' new like it is now, that's when it shits out the most… Fuck, I ain't had time for shit else, hardly had tha time ta find a place ta live. Speakin' o' which, where ya gonna be livin'? Wit' ya kin?"

"I met with that woman Mamet put me in touch with, Lori Grimes, yesterday afternoon. Met her at that bar you was talking about. It must be the place to be up there. Found a house on the same street as Oscar."

"Yeah, the Buck Skin… Lori Grimes, she helped me wit' tha place I'ma be movin' inta. She's good people. Husband's th' sheriff but he ain't so bad, I reckon, for a man of the law. Had dinner wit' 'em a few times already an' met a bunch o' th' people in town an' so far, it's lookin' like they ain't too many assholes…"

"Well, I'm looking forward to getting the hell outta dodge. I say's to Mamet, sign me the fuck up for whatever, I'm up for anything. It'll be a good chance to get outta this place."

"I gotta say, it's nice ta kno' ya gonna be on my trainin' team."

"Just like the good ol' days, T-Dog and Big D, running the show! I'm happy for you though, brah, you deserve this."

Daryl shook his head, tossing the butt of his smoke aside. "We'll see. You does too though, ya done put in jus' as much work as any o' 'em."

"So where you off to now," Dog asked, flicking his butt away.

"Fuckin', I'm on my way ta Buckhead cause one o' the saltpeter nitrate tills crapped out an' Mamet wants me ta make sure the engineer he hired is competent – I'm sure it's the machine…be nice when I ain't gotta drive so damn much no more. Fuckin' three hour trip…" Daryl cocked his head, taking a long gaze at his friend, and then grinned. "So T, how big's ya truck ya rentin' this weekend?"

T-Dog grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Big enuff, brah, big enuff."

Tuesday nights were big affairs in Buckhead, Georgia, and anyone who wished to find loud music, good company and two for one specials needn't go any further than the Buck Skin. In fact, any given night could be considered a big affair seeing as it was the only watering hole within the town limits. Each evening of the week offered different and selected activities such as dart night, pool night and karaoke night. The jukebox was in constant use so dancing too, was a guarantee for one seeking a night out on the town in Buckhead. On this particular Tuesday evening Glenn Rhee was hosting amateur night with his fiancée, Maggie Greene. Her younger sister, Beth, was up on the stage strumming a guitar and singing a soft country song when Daryl Dixon strolled inside. He didn't recognize the tune but then again, it sounded liked some stupid girly shit song he wouldn't have given two fucks about anyways.

Heading up to the bar he found a stool far away from the stage and just turned to face the bar when Karen placed a Budweiser in front of him.

"Howdy, stranger, you come here often?" Winking, she flashed him a toothy grin with a provocative tilt of her head.

Instead of humoring her with an answer to the flirtatious statement he pointed up to the stage. "Th' hell y'all got goin' on in here tanight?"

"Amateur night," She answered, looking up at the young blonde before returning her eyes to him. "You wanna give it a try? I bet you have skills with a guitar. I bet you can play anything you want to with those fingers."

Curling his fingers into tight fists he slid his arms down and put his balled up hands in his lap. "Don't play nuthin'."

Just before Karen spoke, a hand came down and clapped Daryl on the back and he jumped slightly. "Daryl, good to see you in tonight! How are you?"

It was Dale.

Thankful for the distraction, he shook the older man's hand. "'M good, jus' stoppin' in for a drink 'fore's I head back ta Moline."

"Yeah?" Dale took a seat, "I heard from Lori that you're moving into Carol's attic this weekend?"

"Mhm," He nodded. "Takin' Friday off ta move my shit down."

"Who's moving in with Carol?" A woman's voice asked. "Karen can I get another Jack and Coke?"

The Asian kid he'd seen around town several times was holding the hand of the young brunette woman Daryl had seen with him. The woman took her drink from Karen and turned to face Daryl and Dale. She smiled brightly at him and then looked to Dale as he spoke.

"Daryl here is," Dale said, looking at the couple. "You two met him yet?

"We've heard about him. Hello." The Asian man said, holding up his hand and waving a bit in greeting.

Daryl nodded at him.

"Really," Maggie turned her green eyes to him again. "Wish I could see inside her house, it's gorgeous from the outside, so big." The girl smiled at him and pointed to herself and then to the man next to her. "I'm Maggie Greene. This is my fiancé, Glenn Rhee. Heard ya met my sister Beth already." She held her hand out.

"Daryl Dixon," He said, taking her hand and then Glenn's hand. "Yeah, I met her couple o' weeks ago in here."

"You _are_ cute! Beth said ya were." Maggie said, looking him up and down. "Ya gotta a girlfriend?"

Daryl scoffed, wondering why in hell this particular question came up so damn much. Lori and Rick both had asked him if he was seeing anybody the first night he'd had dinner with them. Then when he'd stopped in at the Buck Skin for lunch last week, Irma had asked him if he was married or seeing anyone. He reached for the beer he hadn't had a chance to taste yet, not even bothering to answer the question.

"You know, if you wanted a place to stay so bad, I have a room over my garage I could've rented to you fairly cheap." Karen was saying now, appearing absolutely disgusted. "You don't have to move in with that egg laying fogey, nobody wants any early bird specials that she has to offer. There are other options. Better options, ones that don't require a senior discount at the drive-in."

"Karen – Just, don't…" Maggie started.

"Karen, stop…" Dale and Glenn both said.

Daryl felt his temper flare, and failed at keeping his tone calm. "Reckon I ain't givin' a shit 'bout ya garage."

Maggie, Glenn and Dale went silent.

"Awwe, c'mon Daryl, you ain't even seen it yet. Maybe I can take you over to see it after closin' time." She drawled seductively. "Just you and me, whaddya say?"

Daryl stood suddenly, causing Glenn and Maggie to both step back. "Said I ain't interested, ya fuckin' deaf _an'_ stupid?" he dropped a five on the counter. "Keep tha change."

He looked at Dale and then the other two. "Y'all got a table or som'thin' we can go ta?" Picking his beer up, he made it a point to start walking away from the bar.

"Yeah, we have a table over where Beth is." Maggie answered, as she and Glenn hurried to catch up with him. "Wanna join us, I mean, ya can if ya want to?"

Daryl sighed and shrugged his shoulders once they were away from ear shot of Karen. "I jus' – I ain't gonna hang 'round an' listen ta people shit talkin' Carol. I'ma be livin' wit' her an' I jus' don't understand the hostility that dumb bitch has o'er her. So's if jawin' bullshit an' tongue-waggin' happy hour drama is on ya bar gossip agenda, I'd figures I'd rather jus' head on out an' call it a night."

"No one at our table is gonna do that." Maggie said, as Glenn nodded along. "None of us share any of her hateful opinions."

Dale frowned, "Come and finish your drink at our table. I might be able to fill you in on Karen's resentment of your new landlady."

Daryl nodded, and walked with them to a table right next to the stage. He inclined his chin at the younger Green sister and took a seat. He watched as Maggie took the microphone and announced the next performer, a heavyset man with a friendly face named Otis, who started to tell a set of jokes and humorous remarks as he took the microphone.

"So many times, me and Maggie have talked to Karen about her animosity towards Carol. No one understands it – I mean, we think we know but..." Glenn was saying from across the table. "No matter what we say, she doesn't stop."

"Oh? Carol's renting her attic out to you?" Beth chimed in, sipping at some fruity drink. "I was hoping she would. I like her. I think it'll be good for Carol to have a friend in that big old house with her. It can't be fun being so alone all the time with just a cat and ducks for company."

"Yeah," He narrowed his gaze at the young blonde, remembering how she had egged Karen on that first day he had met them.

"So you've seen inside? Been inside all over?" Beth asked, holding her drink and smiling at him with an odd expression on her face, as though it were the only expression she was capable of making. "In all the rooms and seen everything there is to see?"

"Yeah," he repeated, taking a long draw from his beer. "Ain't seen all the bedrooms but I saw most o' it…"

"Is the inside like the inside of the Addams Family house?" Beth asked, leaning forward, "With cobwebs and million dollar heirlooms and weird devices and torture things?"

"'Cuse me," Daryl pulled a face, and glanced at Glenn as though to ask if this chick was for real.

"Is it creepy inside? With bear skin rugs that growl at you if you step on them and meat eating plants? Secret tunnels and things?" The young girl's eyes were wide with curiosity. "Everything painted black and just spooky and kooky?"

"No," he shook his head, still making a face. "It's real nice inside. Clean. Colorful. Bright."

"Ohhh," she sounded disappointed but then she grinned. "Maybe you can talk her into dressing it up as the Addams Family house for Halloween and letting people inside for a costume party?"

Not knowing how to respond to her odd string of conversation Daryl just shrugged, "Maybe ya oughta ask her yaself."

"Okay!" Beth grinned, and sucked down the rest of her drink. "I think I will. I bet people would go if she had one. I think the whole town would show up."

Daryl was about to say something, still not quite knowing if he were missing an important puzzle clue to the flow of schmooze, when Glenn burst out in laughter and almost spilled his drink.

"Do you know how pissed off Karen would be if someone else in Buckhead threw a costume party on Halloween night?" Glenn glanced over at Dale and the older man just put his hands up and smirked a bit.

"Mhm, I know." Beth nodded, smiling big for the first time, and that childlike quality momentarily disappearing as she turned her gaze to the redneck. "I know you heard me gossiping with Karen that day you was here but I just do it to make her think she has someone on her side. It's not just Carol she badmouths. I come back and tell everyone what she says about whoever she's blabberin' about. Nobody likes her. This isn't even really her bar and grill no matter how much she thinks it is."

The girl smiled, picked her glass up and stood, heading off toward the stage again. Daryl just stared, and when Beth joined Maggie at the microphone and they started singing together, he turned to Glenn and Dale.

"The Buck Skin is actually owned by Tyreese, but he's overseas, fighting for our country right now." Dale explained. "He and Karen were engaged a few years back and Karen wanted the Jacobson Manor _desperately_. But they didn't have enough money even for a down payment. The nephew who inherited the house after Marvin Jacobson passed, was a greedy little shit and wanted it paid in full. Tyreese was thinking about selling this place but he realized even if he did, it still wouldn't be enough. So, he didn't and that put a riffle between him and Karen. Then here comes Carol Peletier, from outta nowhere and snatches that old house up." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Karen was livid but Tyreese – he was happy to see someone moving into the place that didn't wanna tear it down but wanted to bring it back to its old glory."

Dale gesticulated with his hands.

"Hell, that mansion has been around here for hundreds of years – longer than any of us. Anyways, a few of us went out and welcomed Carol to Buckhead, with pies and casseroles and house warming gifts, a few weeks after she settled in and Tyreese was one of us that went. We spent the day out there getting to know her a bit, ate – took a tour of the house and seen the cemetery out in the woods. All seemed well and dandy until about a month later – a rumor was going around that the engagement had broken off."

Dale paused and took a drink of his beer, sipping at it he raised his grayish-white eyebrows and continued as he placed the bottle back down.

"Next thing any of us know, Karen is blaming Carol for the broken engagement and Tyreese is being called back in for duty overseas." The older man shared a knowing look with Glenn. "Tyreese comes home every now and again on the infrequent leaves they assign but he and Karen never reconciled. Sometime during their relationship Karen bought a third of the shares for ownership but she isn't in complete charge of Buck Skin. When he's gone she likes to think and act like this place is hers but it isn't. We've all heard the spiel about how much she hates Carol. None of us feel the same. I know its Karen's hostility that prevents Carol from coming in more often but my lord, can that woman sing her little heart out when she does. We love to hear her sing on karaoke night."

Glenn grinned and added, "Tyreese hired me to DJ and run the equipment. Karen's tried to fire me several hundred times I think. And then he hired Maggie and me both to run Amateur night over a Skype call. She can't do a damn thing about it. She has no hiring or firing privileges. Someone has to fuck up big time for her to fire anyone outright. She can hand out write-ups but Tyreese handles disciplinary actions. She tried to write me up once for coughing too loud when someone was singing. Tyreese just laughed and told me to put the write-up through the paper shredder in the office."

The irritated redneck shook his head in amazement, scoffing.

Dale interjected, "So it's the only time anyone really see's her. And Karen was wrong; Carol doesn't have to mingle because we all sit together right next to where she always sits and include her in conversations as much as she lets us. The only night Irma comes in is when she knows Carol's gonna sing. The only time when Beth gets any kinda competition in here, being our resident songbird and all."

Daryl listened to this information quietly. And as Dale took a moment to let the hunter absorb and contemplate, he offered a gesture of his hands and sighed as he looked pointedly up at the bar tender.

"Karen even tried to ban Carol from coming here. I doubt she's even aware of that but she might be. I know Lori and her are close so maybe Lori told her about it. Tyreese wouldn't have it though. Karen has no authority over the place so never pay any mind to what she says."

"I never do…" He replied, now glaring in open hostility up at the offending woman. "I hear her say one single word against Carol again when I'm here - well y'all gonna see a side o' me I ain't carin' to hide once it com' out."

With that said the hunter rose from his seat, nodded at the two men and strolled right back out and to his bike.

"Die you nasty zombie lamebrain! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"Zombies, as in reanimated corpses." Lori commented to the woman beside her as she and Carol passed through the living room to go to the kitchen. "Who even comes up with these ideas?" The woman laughed, shaking her head at her friend.

"Is that a video game he's playing?" Carol asked, and the two women stopped to gaze at the television where Carl was playing with a controller in his hand.

"They're walking dead things mom! Dead things that walk! Or maybe the other way around…" He pressed pause on the controller and scooted around to grin at them. "Maybe the people in the game are the walking dead cause they all have the zombie disease in 'em and if you die or get bit you become one of 'em! It's fun! You get to shoot the zombies in the head and set 'em on fire if you wanna! Dad said he was gonna teach me how to handle a gun someday in case the zombies come and wanna eat our brains! I think callin' 'em zombies is stupid though – so does Shane! If they do come we're gonna call 'em Walkers! Cool, huh?" The boy giggled and returned to his video game.

"Yeah, very cool." Lori laughed, "Go clean up, suppers about done. We're eating on the patio."

"Okay mom - after I kill this one…right…here! Bang, bang, bang, bang!" Carl roared in hysterics as he rapidly shot one zombie after another.

"Move it mister." Lori kissed the top of her son's head before heading into the kitchen.

"It amazes me the types of games they think up." Carol said, going to the fridge and taking out three beers.

"Oh god, I know!" She replied, "I think he's too young for most of them but Rick buys each new one right when it comes out and plays it with him, so, I guess I just keep my mouth shut."

Carol shook her head. "I bet you play them too."

"Of course I do." But she made a disgusted face. "But not this zombie game he's so – obsessed with. I'd rather play Harvest Moon or Animal Crossing."

They both laughed, and Carol just shrugged. She'd never heard of those two video games.

"You got the beer? I'll grab the potato salad…that's it?"

"Yep, that's it."

They walked back through the living room and stepped outside to the patio where Rick Grimes was grilling up steak and hotdogs. "Oh Carol, I heard your phone beeping 'bout a minute ago." Rick said, closing the lid to the grill and taking his beer from Carol's hand.

"What time is it?" She said, sitting down at the patio table and reaching inside her purse for her cell. "6:30? Who's texting me at 6:30?"

"We keeping you past your bedtime, Carol?" Rick joked, giving her a friendly wink as he popped the lid off his beer.

"No, not exactly… The only people who text me are in my presence – with an exception or two, naturally. But just randomly?" She moved her fingers along the screen and opened up the new text message from a number she thought she recognized.

_Hey, it's Daryl, how are you? _

She read it, her eyebrows lifting. "Oh. Weird. It's from Daryl, asking me how I am." She made an impassive face as she programmed his number into her contacts. "I thought I had him added but I guess I didn't…" She said to herself as she saved it.

"How is that weird? Let me see it!" Lori grabbed for the phone but Carol held it out of her reach.

"Why is he texting me you think?" She stared at the message and nibbled on the inside of her cheek.

"Uh, because he wants to know how you are, obviously." Lori said, plopping down beside Carol. "Text him back and find out why."

"What do I say?"

"Um, how are you?" Lori crossed her long legs and stared at Carol with her eyes wide and her brow lifted.

"Me? I'm great, I guess – I mean, I about to eat - so…"

"Well, tell him that because that's what he asked, silly." She said, opening up her beer and taking a drink.

_I'm great. Just getting ready to eat. _

Once she sent it, she thought for a moment then sent another one.

_How are you?_

"What did you say?"

"What you told me to say – and I asked how he was – to be polite." She sat back further in her chair. "I wonder why he's texting me?"

"I don't know sweetie, maybe he's just thinking about the move and he thought of you which is pretty much the same thing. Men never seem to think they need a reason for anything they do."

"Same could be said about y'all women." Rick interjected from the grill, smirking. "Never seem to think you need a reason to go shopping or buy a new pair of shoes…"

"Doesn't count, a woman can never have too many pairs of shoes." Lori said firmly, gesturing with her beer.

Carol's phone beeped.

_I'm good. _

"Oh, well he's good." Carol said and put her phone back into her purse.

"Why'd you put your phone away? Text him back." Lori reached over Carol and took her phone back out of her purse.

"I don't know how to respond to that, Lori. I'm not a texter."

"Ask him what he's doing." She pushed the cell back into Carol's hand.

"Oh, okay…" She took her phone back and nibbled on her cheek some more as she thought about what to say.

_So, what are you doing?_

"There, sent…oh, that was fast…"

_Nothing. _

"He isn't doing anything – nothing – he said." Carol looked at her two friends and swallowed back the spark of excitement building in her chest. "Do you think he's here? In town, I mean?"

Rick chuckled as he opened the grill back up and flipped the steaks one last time. "These'll be done in a minute. Ask him where he is."

"Okay…"

_Where are you at? _

Carol opened her beer and as she sipped at it, her phone beeped again.

_Buckhead. _

"He is," she looked at Rick. "He's here in Buckhead."

"Ask him if he's had supper." Rick said casually, giving Lori a crafty look as Carol was glancing at her phone.

_Have you eaten dinner yet?_

"I asked him…"

Carol nibbled her bottom lip as she waited for his reply. A part of her was hoping he had been thinking about her and a part of her was nervous that he had been – but it was a nervousness she hadn't felt in a very long time. It made her stomach tremble slightly like butterflies were tangled up, and fluttering fiercely to escape. She was excited to see him again. It had only been several days but Carol missed his face, and they way he spoke, and the way he moved. He was so unlike anyone she'd ever known before. During the days since she'd seen him she started picturing the two of them around the house. Sitting on the porch together, sharing information about their days or just enjoying the evening. At first she had been totally against even thinking about cooking food for anyone or preparing a meal for someone sharing her home with her but now she was looking forward to finding out what he liked eating and making it for him. In her mind, she pictured Daryl and her becoming best friends and this is what she told herself she was excited about. For the first time in her life, having a best friend who was a man, someone that she felt comfortable around without having to worry that what she was doing was okay or not. That she wanted to cook, and talk and be around him because it was her nature to look after and care for her friends. Yes, these are the things she told herself.

Or perhaps it was because every time she thought of his face and remembered that kindred spark she might have or might not have imagined, between them, she knew no one had ever shown him very much kindness. No one had ever asked him how his day was, or sat quietly with him to enjoy the sounds of nature as the sun set, or made his favorite meal for him - just because. She hadn't made a comment at the time but when he had spoken of his home town and how they whispered about the 'piece of shit, ignorant Dixon' she realized what type of person he considered himself to be and that scowl of self-loathing he adorned as he muttered his last name, as though ashamed to even admit who he was, tugged at her heartstrings. He was a man who let the stigma of his blood follow him around, almost like a cruel reminder that he wasn't worthy to be his own person or deserving of the accomplishments he had designed for himself all on his own. And as she had learned more about him and the promotion that brought him into her life, Carol realized he wasn't some big time hot shot, he was just a man who wanted to do his fair share in life and live it the only way he knew how to – with honor.

Carol wasn't sure how she knew all of this so soon and so fast. It was just something she felt, deep within her soul. He reeked of loyalty and harbored a strong scent of reticent devotion. Devotion to things in his life that perhaps offered him nothing more or less than grief. He valued the little things in life and that was something Carol hadn't seen much of from the men in her life. The way he spoke of nature and the gentle ways he had gazed upon the various woodworks in her home – her home that she wanted nothing more now than to share with him. It was the protectiveness he exuded and barely concealed expressions, almost feral to a point she should have been frightened but wasn't, of wonder and admiration, that he was observing her as though he'd never come across a creature such as she. It made her feel precious, as though she were worthful of a second glance. She had felt shielded over his detestation of those rumors he had heard. The terrifyingly uncommon partiality she grappled with herself over him was overridden by the want and desire to be the one person who showed him the kindness he had never known. The manner she envisaged he made her feel was just a bonus in her mind. Because, of course, all of this was just in her head – these were just ruminations she alone would ever entertain and never speak out loud into the world, at least in real life. In reality, she didn't really know him at all… Yes, these were just things she kept telling herself.

"Carol…"

She snapped her head up, coming out of her thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Your phone beeped again."

"Oh," she bent her head and read the text.

_No._

"He hasn't had dinner yet." She said to Rick, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

"Invite him over; I can put another steak on the grill. Ask him how he wants it cooked." Rick said, nodding to Lori who stood up, not even bothering to conceal the knowing grin she shared with her husband.

Carol nodded, those butterflies just struggling to burst free.

_I'm at Lori and Ricks place. You're invited to have a steak dinner. How do you want yours cooked?_

She bit her lip and waited for a text back as Lori went inside to collect Carl, who had most likely ended back in front of his zombie game and to spice up another steak.

_Don't wanna intrude. _

Carol didn't bother reading it aloud and responded all on her own.

_No, you're not intruding at all. Actually, I've been wondering how you've been and we'd all like to see you. So, how do you want your steak cooked?_ :p

She worried her lip some more and was unaware that Rick was watching her with a bemused smirk on his face.

_Are you sure I wouldn't be intruding none? Don't wanna bother you guys if you're having dinner._

Her fingers flew over the keys.

_I'm positive. Please come. I miss your face. ;) _

Carl came running out and plopped down at the table, with a grape soda in his hand with Lori right behind him, handing Rick another steak.

_Okay. Rare for the steak if it ain't no trouble. Be there in a few… ;)_

He had winky faced her back! Carol was ecstatic and was sure now, so very sure that whatever she had felt pass between them had been real and was very much reciprocated.

"Daryl's coming over and he likes his steak rare."

She bit her lip, sat back in her chair, drank a deep swig of cold beer and waited.

It was still early and Daryl wasn't inclined to head back to his trailer just yet. It was empty, except for poor Eye, who was probably just lounging around waiting for him to walk in the door, and it no longer seemed like home. How funny that seemed to him that the box he'd been calling his and had owned outright for the past few years, no longer felt comfy or inviting. When he shut his eyes he could smell the alluring intoxication of the country air and the fragrant breeze it inhabited entwined within the call of the woods. A picture of a looming manor with its inviting wraparound veranda and impressive crested chimneys adorned here and there along the high peaking roof is what he envisioned now. The gentle aroma of sugar – he had noticed that right away when he entered Carol's home – lurking just beneath the scent of naturally cured wood and polished fixtures. He reckoned now that he had thought of Carol's home as his too, from the moment that dumb bitch had mentioned a crazy cat lady was renting part of it out. At the time he didn't dwell on it and just accepted his fascination but now it seemed as though he were driven by it. That he was now allowed inside he could breathe right, at last.

The idea that Karen blamed Carol for the failure of her seemingly already doomed engagement was to him like if he'd put the blame on Merle for Daryl being born a Dixon. It was the most cockamamy horseshit he'd heard in a dog's age and Daryl had heard a lot of bullshit enlightenments during his days. The whole narration that Dale had woven made his fucking ass twitch. His barely controlled reaction to jump over the bar and smack a lady had taken Daryl by surprise. _She sure as shit ain't no lady though._ Just the fact that he wanted to stomp Karen's ass had made him sit back and think about just why he was so pissed off. He didn't give a fuck about petty gossipmongers or women who obviously considered themselves to be better than other women. Gossip about him was expected, he figured it was just something that would tail after him for all his given days and it did hurt, deep down where he refused to allow his rational mind to linger for too long. Usually however, he could ignore it. And Karen was just a slab of Grade-A, top choice sirloin, porterhouse bitch. Daryl didn't believe a man should ever put his hands on a woman in a violent way or in a way that was unwelcomed but good lord did he wanna punch her face in and knock her fucking block off.

Coming to the Triumph he sighed as he swung his leg over and mounted it. He glanced at his watch, it was just about 6:20. Sighing, he gazed in the direction of Carol's manor. He wondered what she was doing and how she was. Should he just take a chance and drive on over and risk any irritation at the impromptu visit? They had seemed to be on friendly grounds by the time he had left her on Saturday, and he chewed his thumbnail a bit as he recalled her teasing and the frequency of her kind smiles. He'd never been friends with a woman before and to be honest, he'd never really had a real friend at all, male or female. Sure he had a few buddies from work he enjoyed a beer with every so often but a true friend – someone to confer with and talk openly to? It was a foreign and unchartered concept. Glancing back up at the Buck Skin he realized something, he was so pissed off and ready to stomp a woman's ass because he reacted to the threat he perceived as a direct insult to him on Carol's behalf – if someone insulted her, they insulted him. He knew Carol – well, he reckoned he knew her enough to know she hadn't done nothing but buy a house someone else had coveted and was being treated like a pariah for some fantasized injustice. It was stupid and it was bullshit. At least the other folks he'd met so far weren't a part of it. For that he was glad. He didn't want any trouble and didn't wanna make any enemies before he'd even spent one night in his new town.

He took out his phone, hesitated a bit then flipped it open and typed a message, cringing, he press the send key.

_Hey, it's Daryl, how are you? _

Resting back on the bike, Daryl took out a cigarette, lit it and waited to see if she'd respond back. He didn't want to seem too eager for some reason, didn't want her to think he didn't have anything better to do than bug her.

"What else I got ta do?" He muttered to himself, shaking his head and tilting his chin upwards to blow out a poof of smoke.

The minutes passed by and he was about to put his phone away and start the bike up when his phone beeped. He opened the new message.

_I'm great. Just getting ready to eat. _

Shit, of course she was, it was about supper time and he hadn't even considered that. He was just wondering if he should ignore the text and leave it at that when another message popped up.

_How are you?_

How was he? He was still aggravated by the information Dale had given him but now that he was smoking, and taking a moment to himself and texting with her he was…

_I'm good. _

"Now," he said aloud as an afterthought as he pressed send again.

He flicked away the cigarette butt and just stared at his phone.

_So, what are you doing?_

_Nothing_, he typed out and sent instantly.

"Ain't doin' shit." He chuckled, feeling a bit like an idiot for texting her out in a parking space in front of a bar.

_Where are you at? _He read a few seconds later.

_At the Buck Skin_,he started but deleted it and typed _Buckhead_ instead. Daryl didn't want her to think he'd been drinking or was drunk texting her or some shit.

Send.

"What'n the hell am I doin'?" Daryl leaned forward and rested his arms on the handle bars of the bike, his phone held in one hand.

It beeped and he read the next message.

_Have you eaten dinner yet? _

He shook his head, worried now she was feeling sorry for him and was going to give him a pity invite to join her for supper. Not that he would say no but – why the fuck did he care so fucking much? What in the hell _did_ he care about, exactly? Sighing, he typed out one word.

_No_.

Send.

Daryl took out another cigarette and inhaled deeply as he got it lit. Ever since he had left her in the drive on that late Saturday afternoon he hadn't been able to shake the woman from his thoughts, and if he did, well, she was still there, lingering in the foreground of his eyes. As he had driven out to her home he had been expecting exactly what he'd been picturing in his head. A tiny old lady all draped up in shawls and wearing those dangly bangle bracelets he'd seen fortune tellers wear when he's seen them at the fair or a carnival. Try as he might, Daryl couldn't keep that fucking garbled watercolored semblance from forging in his mind but it had been there, and shit if he wasn't even more pissed off because Karen was the one who'd painted it in his head. The canvass with her image had depicted her in a certain variation all the way up until the minute he hoisted Carl up on his motorcycle. That was until he'd turned and with the sun glaring in his eyes, he'd knew he'd been wrong.

Freckles, just a few nondescript, tiny, random freckles tickling smooth pale skin and dancing provocatively upon high cheek bones and skittering impishly around a heart-shaped mouth. They drew his eyes to them when he took in his first true glimpse of her face. Such a liquified fluidity of ripe oceanic embroidery reflected back out at him when their eyes collided, and Daryl had been swept away by the rippling sea of her blue puddles. The spiritless comportment of her body had undone him and he had had to look away, down to the ground where those haunted oceanic mirrors would not seek him out, and could not seek him out. Because, if he didn't see her, then she couldn't see him, right?

It had been an incorrect assessment of course because as Lori introduced them he was impelled, against the strain of his own resisting will to not look, to gaze into those troubled ocean-blue eyes once more. The hesitancy of her smile was torturous, and Daryl knew at once he shouldn't have gone there, he should have never called in the first place or asked for permission to invade her personal environment because now, he could see that she saw right through him, but as the uplifting tilt of her mouth blossomed into something he related to he smiled hesitantly in return and forgot every stupid thing he'd been thinking in that moment. It was a timid smile she offered him, one lacking in the habitually delivered package of lascivious exuberance he was accustomed to, and it inspired a mimicking reproduction of the expression he was told by Merle that made him look like a twinkle toed fairy. He'd only ever been inspired after Merle's comment to never smile that way again and he never could figure out why or what had caused him to make the expression, him and Merle had been alone in the trailer.

Yet her eyes, they did something to him and they did it hard. Whatever it was, he was drawn to them, and as he finally evaluated the awkward stance of his body he shook her hand, it had been soft and he felt a slight roughness upon her fingertips as they brushed against his wrist and curled around his hand. They had locked eyes once more as she let his hand go and for a long minute their greetings had just hung there between them, the distant quacking of so many ducks and the happy sounds of Carl splashing in water, was all that could be heard. Finally Lori had jolted them both to the present with a loud, obviously fake cough, and they had snapped out of whatever spell had been cast in their private bubble.

And so it had begun, and as each day passed between when he left and now, as he sat outside the Buck Skin, he couldn't get her eyes out of the vista behind his eyelids. Daryl was almost sure he didn't even remember what the rest of her looked like. Truth be told, the benevolence of her tone and the style of her face and how it lit up once she had started to tentatively tease him had made him more happy then he had ever cared to admit he was. No one had ever teased him like that before and it felt like they were already friends. In a playful manner that he'd seen on TV or as he observed one of his co-workers interact with a friend of the opposite sex. Had had witnessed T-Dog tease a woman named Jacqui, whom they both had worked with for years before she moved away, and the easy informality in which they played off of each other had made him uncomfortable at times. Daryl had never had that before and as the day wore on and her posture became more and more at ease with his own dissolving unadaptability he had experienced a destined mark of naturalness and sympathy unparalleled to anything in his life before the point he was driven into her world by a simple twist of fate.

Whatever it was inside his head that couldn't expel her to the buried dismal recesses of forgetfulness wanted nothing to do with the arguing corner of his conscience, and Daryl didn't know why he envisioned a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. His devil, which sounded and replicated his brother Merle, reminded him he didn't have a need for a friend as wholesome and caring as Carol seemingly was. That he was just another illiterate, good-for-nothing, dirty as a dog redneck, pawing, slobbering and begging for a pat on the head and a bone to chew on. So far, the angel hadn't said much, unsurprisingly. But he knew he wanted this – friendship, whatever it was – and he wanted it with Carol.

His phone beeped.

_I'm at Lori and Ricks place. You're invited to have a steak dinner. How do you want yours cooked?_

But Carol already had friends and didn't need him, did she? Daryl was only a roommate now, another body giving presence in her house. And by the actions of how she'd been treated through Karen and her spitefulness he didn't blame her if she thought no one liked her but Daryl was sure that Real Estate Lori and Officer Friendly Rick sincerely enjoyed her company. The hunter still remembered the very protective glint in Lori's eyes when they had been riding in her car.

He sighed, resigning himself to the very long and yes, lonely drive back to his empty, unwelcoming trailer.

_Don't wanna intrude. _

Send.

He flicked away the burnt out cigarette. He didn't want a pity invite… His phoned beeped again.

_No, you're not intruding at all. Actually, I've been wondering how you've been and we'd all like to see you. So, how do you want your steak cooked?_ :p

She'd been thinking about him? Daryl frowned down at the words in concentration, running his tongue over his lips. He recognized the tongue face, a playful face, surely not given by someone who feels sorry for another and so a smirk replaced the frown he'd been holding. He could have swore there'd been a moment in the dining room when they'd both come upon and agreed to a silent acceptance that they were comfortable with each other and that maybe, just maybe, they had formed a quiet, blossoming friendship. Had that moment really happened and was it something she had assumed as well, and wasn't just something he had made up in his head?

He sucked on his lips as he typed and pressed send once more.

_Are you sure I wouldn't be intruding none? Don't wanna bother you guys if you're having dinner._

In a matter of seconds, her response came back.

_I'm positive. Please come. I miss your face. ;) _

Daryl felt his face flush at the winky face, and it was then he realized that the quiet formulation of their friendship had been accepted by both, and wasn't something he had just imagined. He couldn't help the grin that elevated his face into an expression he wouldn't even have recognized even if he had had a mirror in front of him and the soft chuckle that brushed past his lips. She missed his face – he wasn't sure what that meant but it sounded like something a friend might say in a teasing manner, and Daryl was becoming addicted to the taste of it. She wanted him there.

He typed, and pressed send one last time.

_Okay. Rare for the steak if it ain't no trouble. Be there in a few… ;) _

Daryl slipped his helmet over his head, turned the key in the bike, threw the kickstand up, revved the throttle, backed out of the parking space and then cruised toward the residential part of Buckhead, and disappeared on the road in the fading evening light.


	5. All Yours

I do NOT own The Walking Dead or these characters.

Chapter Five

All Yours

The Grimes family dwelled in an averaged sized two story house with white siding and an open front yard with flowers blooming all in a row along the front porch. The steps started down at the sidewalk and went upwards in an incline to a short walkway to the steps of the porch. There was a wooden swing painted white hanging down to the left of the front door and it swayed back and forth gently in the evening breeze. Daryl pulled up in front of the couple's home and took his helmet off. Taking a deep breath he could smell the tantalizing scent of barbequing meat wafting along the street from several different houses. He parked the Triumph, turned the engine off and headed up to the door. He pressed the doorbell, and heard it ding from inside. Quick, hurried steps stomped through the house and the door was thrust open.

"Daryl!" Carl Grimes grinned up at him. "Did you bring your crossbow with you?"

"Nah, little man, maybe next time," Daryl smirked down at him and stepped inside.

Carl shut the door and started talking excitedly.

"There's a guy with a crossbow on my zombie game and he never ever, ever, ever, EVER! runs out of arrows! It's the best way to kill 'em if you don't wanna use your gun, cause the zombies don't hear you comin' if you have a crossbow cause they're quiet and stuff, so you can be quicker." He grinned and ran over to his video game and pointed at the TV screen. "The guy on my game he always reuses his arrows cause it's hard to make more when you got lamebrains tryin' to bite you and eat you and stuff! That's why he never ever runs out cause he uses the same one over and over again!"

Daryl stared down at the young boy and nodded his head. "'S a good idea ta reuse 'em. Makin' new ones is hard work, gotta take ya time with 'em so's they last for ya." He glanced at the television when Carl pointed at it and he listened some more about the video game which was stuck on pause.

"When the zombies come I think using a crossbow is the best! Unless there's a bunch of 'em then I guess using a shotgun is the best! Or maybe a machine gun! And you can blast more of 'em that way! I think stabbin' 'em is fun too! You get covered in zombie slime! I bet it would smell super bad in real life! Do you like zombies?" Carl paused, and grinned as he waited.

The hunter was standing there with his arms crossed, thinking about it intently, his head slowly moving in thought. "Thinkin' if they did com' for us I ain't gonna like 'em very much at all. But in a movie or a video game, I reckon I think they's pretty bad ass."

"Me too! Dad just got me this game for winning the spelling bee last month outta both 5th grade classes and it's my favorite! Maybe you can come back on a weekend and play it with me sometime! Oh! Dad's got your steak cookin' on the grill and mom and Aunt Carol are waiting for us!" Carl ran to the sliding glass door and waved at Daryl to hurry up. "C'mon, Daryl!"

As the glass door was slid open, Carl bounced outside and plopped back into his seat next to his mom. The scent of the grill had Daryl licking his lips in anticipation and his stomach rumbling in demand to be fed. He realized he hadn't bothered to eat lunch before he took up on the long drive to Buckhead. Stepping onto the patio he slid the door closed and turned to greet everyone. Words fell short however when he locked eyes with Carol. How could he even consider that maybe he had forgotten what she looked like? And still, he felt that magnetic pull to her oceanic mirrors, so reflective and knowing, and Daryl thought once again that she could gaze right through him and he wouldn't ever be able to hide from her. She was taking a draw from a bottle of Bud Light and he watched as her face lit up when she saw him, and he ducked his head, nervous suddenly, cleared his throat and pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Daryl, just in time," Rick was saying and the redneck turned and looked at the officer. "Your steak is ready and Lori set you a place already, there, next to Carol."

"Hey Daryl," Lori said, "I think your steak is still mooing, actually."

Daryl chuckled, shaking his head a bit. He noticed everyone else had started eating so he moved around the table and pulled the chair out next to Carol and sat down. "Yeah, that's how me an' Merle always cooked 'em. Reckon we was too much in a hurry or too hungry ta cook 'em anymor' than that. Thanks for havin' me o'er though."

"Well we're happy to have you." Lori said, scooping some potato salad on Carl's plate as the boy dressed up his hotdogs in his favorite fixings.

Rick walked over with Daryl's steak on a plate and set in down in front of him. "Did you want a beer or a soda or something?" The man asked, heading back inside.

Daryl glanced around and seeing that all the adults were drinking Bud Light, he shrugged a bit. "Yeah, beer is good."

Rick disappeared inside the house and Daryl shifted slightly and looked at Carol. She was wearing a short sleeved blouse, with tiny purple flowers on it and he thought it looked real nice on her. She turned her head then, and smiled at him. She had little silver hoops in her ears and a sliver chain around her neck with a small purple flower that matched the pattern on her shirt and Daryl had to avert his eyes as he realized where he was staring as he took in her appearance.

"I'm glad you came." She said, taking a sip a beer.

"Yeah, me too," He drawled softly before reaching out and scooping some potato salad to his plate.

Rick came back out with more beer for everyone and then sat down.

"So they have you working both plants on any given day then? Figured they'd keep you in one place until you moved into a residence," Rick was saying, cutting into his steak and looking at Daryl.

The hunter grunted, "Nope, they's got me runnin' all o'er the state o' Georgia. Yesterday I went ta Woodbury, where the main plant is, gittin' acquainted with them folks. An' taday I were in Moline most o' tha mornin' 'till one o' the machines shit out here, so's I had to com' on out 'round noon. Didn't even hav' time ta eat my lunch."

"I bet you're hungry then." Carol said, smirking at him as he shoveled in a big spoonful of potato salad into his mouth.

Daryl nodded, swallowing. "Could eat a whole slab o' venison if I had tha time ta track an' hunt it."

"So were you just getting off of work then when you were, um, texting with Carol?" Lori asked.

"Got done with work 'bout five, actually. Went ta the Buck Skin coss I heard music comin' from it as I was headin' out, wondered what was goin' on so's I stopped in for a spell." He shrugged, looking down at his steak, cutting off a piece and slipping it into his mouth.

"Amateur night," Rick said, grinning from across the table. "That's a new thing they got going on there. See anything good?"

The hunter shrugged again. "Heard the young Greene sister sing o' bit, an' I met her sister, Maggie and her fiancé'. Heard o' bit of som' guy tell som' jokes… Weren't payin' no attention though…" His voice trailed off, not wanting to bring up the story Dale had told him but thinking he was going to have to anyways.

"That bad, huh," Carol laughed, giving him a close look.

Daryl sighed, and sat up a bit as he started cutting up his meat methodically and spoke in a low, drawn out tone laced with irritation. "Karen started up again, sayin' idiotic shit - an' made it personal… So's I went an' sat with Dale an' them all an' Dale told me 'bout Tyreese an' the broken engagement he had with Karen, few years back."

Lori rolled her eyes. "Whatever broke that engagement off was her own fault. Issues in the relationship she couldn't work out with Tyreese, no doubt. Carol's house was vacant for three years before she even moved here. Karen had plenty of time to try and come up with the money for it – Which she could have done with or without Tyreese if she wanted it as bad as she claimed to. That woman…" She huffed, shaking her head. "We all went to school here together – Me, Rick, Shane, Karen, Tyreese – and she's always been that way. Conniving, vindictive, jealous… She moved away, went to New York City after we graduated, to study at some exclusive school for the arts – She played the cello, and she was good. The only nice thing I have to say about her. But, she came back after a year or so, she had lost her scholarship and you only lose that if you don't go to your classes, don't do your homework – whatever, but when she came back home to Buckhead… She was bitter and more bitchy than ever. I have no idea what Tyreese even saw in her..."

"He must have seen something in her he fell in love with." Rick shrugged, looking at his ranting wife and smirking a bit. "They were together a long time. I'm pretty sure he would have sold Buck Skin eventually, for her."

"His father was the one who opened it Rick, I doubt he would have. Tyreese worshipped his dad. Remember in middle school, when we had to write essays about our heroes and adults we looked up to and inspired us – his was about his dad's career with the military. His dad was a Viet Nam war veteran who earned a high ranking, I can't remember what his exact rank was when he retired but it was up there… – which for the times was very unheard of – being African-American, but Tyreese wanted to join the army and be just like him, fighting for his country – helping people in third world countries… doing stuff that people in the army do. No, he wouldn't have sold it, he would have figured out another way to get the cash."

"Mom, this is boring talk. I wanna go play my zombie game." Carl piped up, his plate clean and holding his head on his hand appearing very, very bored with the conversation the adults were having.

"Yeah, go ahead, sweetie. When we come inside you gotta go to bed though, no game and no arguing." Lori kissed his cheek.

"Take your plate inside, son." Rick said, laughing as the boy groaned but did as he was asked, and went inside the house.

The conversation paused as they all caught up on their supper.

"How much money were needed ta buy tha damn place anyhow?" Daryl asked finally, looking at Lori, forgetting just for a moment that Carol had bought it outright, in cash, just as the seller had demanded.

"Oh, ummm," Lori smiled apologetically. "I can't tell you that…" She lifted her brows pointedly, and nodded her head at the woman beside him who had been quietly listening for quite some time.

Daryl frowned, upset with himself. "'M sorry, that were a personal question. Ain't non' o' my business."

Carol wiped at her mouth with a napkin and cleared her throat. "No, it's fine… All this talk about it… I'd be curious too, if I were you." She smiled at him, and as her face showed him she wasn't mad, he relaxed. "After I met with Lori, and just fell crazily in love with the house, I met with the owner – We negotiated a bit, and the next day my bank issued me a cashier's check for a very large amount of cash… It was enough to make my head spin, let's just say that."

She didn't give him an exact amount but Daryl understood, he had seen the place and knew it was worth a shit ton on its own but now that she'd put so much effort, hard work and her heart into it, he reckoned it was worth three times what she paid for it.

He gave her a soft smile, nodding his head. "'S how I felt when I bought my trailer… Weren't the biggest one in the lot, an' it sure as shit weren't the prettiest but it were mine. Biggest purchase I'd ever made, on my own, after a few years o' savin' an' workin' at the plant. Made me feel like I finally accomplished som'thin' on my own, hard work payin' off, I s'pposse."

Carol nodded her head, looking relieved for some reason, but he didn't ponder on it much.

"Yep, exactly, - that's exactly how I felt when I bought the manor… Something I did on my own that was all mine." She said softly.

"All yours…" He stated, drawing it out in a low emphasis, his head tilted and his blue eyes boring into hers.

He was getting caught up in her oceanic windows again and something whispered in his ear, maybe the angel on his shoulder, the one that never could get a word in edgewise, that he was going to drown very soon if he didn't look away. And for what it was worth, the yapping in his subconscious ignored with a slight movement of his head because he really couldn't recognize these thoughts for what they truly were, Daryl wondered what it would feel like to drown and if it were possible to suffocate in descending depths yet thrive in ascendance into blinding elevations simultaneously. Because that was how staring into her eyes made him feel – he just didn't know why because he didn't know how to listen to the angel yet, his waking mind only granting cognizance to the devil who in a sense was the one smothering Daryl's susurrant subconscious, and shaming it into humility and silence.

"Yep, all mine. No one else's."

The two smiled at each other and then Carol looked away and down to her plate as her fingers tapped the edge of it. Together, both were apparently lost in that bubble again that only contained them. Daryl continued to stare at her until he forced his gaze away and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He cut up the last few bites of his steak, and still, every so often, he would glance at her. Perhaps he didn't even know he was doing it, but nonetheless, his narrowed, squinty gaze found purchase upon her vista and lingered gently as he finished up his meal. Both were unaware of the couple sharing a knowing glance after they witnessed the very open, yet seemingly private exchanges. Lori Grimes reached for her husband's hand underneath the table, and squeezed it, excitement building up inside of her and as soon as she had a chance, she was going to see if her husband was thinking the same thing as she was. They were witnessing the beginning of something magical, something special, something unknown, and the woman wasn't sure exactly what had happened, only knowing that something had. Yet she was sure that it had begun before either of them, Carol and Daryl, had even met. Lori believed in destiny and fate and from what she knew of it, she knew that she was privy to the mysterious progress of kismet in action, and it was blooming right before her eyes.

XXXXXXXX

After they had eaten their fill, and Daryl and Rick had both finished off what Carol and Lori hadn't ate of their meat, the foursome moved inside the house and to the living room. Lori and Rick brought in the dishes, and Daryl and Carol collected up the beer bottles, and Carol showed him where to put them. This made Daryl content, knowing he had been right in assuming that the Grimes family were friends of Carol and had her over often enough that she knew where things went. This also made him wonder if he was becoming friends with them too. The leftover food was put away by a yawning Carl, who had willingly turned his zombie game off, and once everything was cleaned up, Rick went up with the sleepy child and put him to bed. Lori ushered them into the living room as she washed the dishes real fast and as Daryl sat back into the sofa and cracked open his beer, he wondered if he should head on out once it was gone. Tapping his fingers upon the arm of the couch he took a quick glance at his watch. Damn. It was still early and he wasn't ready yet for that long drive home. He just didn't wanna do it. He willed the week to pass him by as he closed his eyes and prayed to open them to a week in the future when he was already settled in Buckhead and in Carol's house.

Opening his eyes, he sighed and lifted the bottle to his mouth.

"You been keeping an eye on your watch. You planning your great escape now that you're fed and full?" Carol said teasingly, lowering her frame into the armchair catty-corner from the couch. She set her unopened beer on a coaster beside her and smirked at him lightly. "Or are you just bored?"

"Habit mostly, from work. Everythin's on a timed schedule." He shook his head though. "Definitely ain't bored, jus' not lookin' forward to the long drive. Be real happy when I ain't gotta drive back an' forth so much."

"I'm sure that get's very time consuming." Lori said now, coming into the room and plopping down into the other armchair. "That's a lot of driving when you think about it. Three hours both ways, that's six hours of your day just on the road. I hate commuting."

Rick came back downstairs then and took the beer Lori had ready for him, and sat down at the other of the couch. "You need any help getting your things moved? I think Shane could handle everything on his own for a few hours on Saturday and we could drive on out to Moline and help load up and bring down stuff if you needed us to." He offered, looking at his wife and she nodded.

"Yeah, I don't think I have any appointments this weekend until Sunday so we could definitely give you a hand."

Daryl set his beer down. "I ain't really got that much stuff ta move, honestly. Was gonna leave most o' the furniture an' the shit in the kitchen an' leave it all there for my brother for when he git's outta prison."

Rick nodded. "That's nice of you."

Daryl shrugged. "He's my brother." He sighed, picking his beer back up. "I own the place so's reckon I might gotta git som'one ta com' in an' clean up every so often so's it ain't gittin' too filthy with no one livin' there but I'm figurin' I'ma hafta help him git back on his feet anyhow. May jus' toss everythin' out. Don't kno' yet."

"You gonna be able to fill out all that open space in the attic?" Lori asked, crossing her legs.

Daryl chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, it's gonna be a task ta fill up space." He looked at Carol then and cleared his throat before he started speaking again. "I kno' we agreed on Saturday for me ta move in but a buddy o' mine from work, he's bein' relocated ta Buckhead too, gonna git set up on my trainin' team startin' up next week – but he's gittin' hisself a U-haul an' he's comin' up here on Friday wit' it an' I were wonderin' if it was okay ta jus' mov' in Friday coss he's gonna let me load my shit up in tha truck."

Carol shrugged, reaching for her beer and popping off the lid. "Doesn't matter to me," She smiled, sipping at the bottle. "I'll be home, so, sure."

"Your friend happen to be Theodore Douglas?" Lori asked, tilting her head curiously.

The hunter nodded, smiling a bit. "Sure is, T-Dog, that's what we call's him."

"He's a character. I showed him around and got him a house by his cousin, I think. He said you two were into some pretty serious shenanigans goofing around before you got your first promotion to Engineer or whatever it was. You two work together for a long time?" She asked, laughing a bit.

"Jus' 'bout eleven years, we was in the same sector mos' of that time. After I were given my first promotion, I were in a different part for a spell. Then got sent back. They ain't never makin' up they minds – That's why I ain't wantin' my own place jus' yet." He scoffed, shaking his head a bit. "They could up an' relocate me at any given moment, drop o' a dime… Gotta make sure I fits in but also gotta make sure the job is gonna stick."

"That's stupid." Lori commented. "They can transfer you out on a whim just like that?"

"Yep," Daryl met Carol's eyes first and then glanced between the three as he spoke. "I bet they won't though. Mamet, he's been the Head at my old plant goin' on fifteen years now. Directin' Head's ain't shuffled 'round as much as other positions. But jus' in case…" He trailed off, averting his gaze down to his hands cradling his beer.

"That makes more since on why you don't wanna buy something." Carol said insouciantly giving him a smile, looking at the redneck in understanding before shrugging at Rick and Lori. "With such whimsical employers you'd almost have to just rent a small room or apartment – or an attic." She laughed lightly, and started wiggling in her seat. "Excuse me - bathroom." She whispered, laughing almost nervously.

Daryl watched her go. "Yeah, told Merle som'thin' along them lines. He weren't too happy 'bout me movin' in tha first place - then again, ain't nothin' I ever do could please him…" He paused then as his phone started ringing in his pocket. He moved his hips to dig it out. He glanced at the caller I.D. "Speak o' the devil… Y'all mind if I take this call? He only has so many chances ta git on tha phone…" He said, apologetically, frowning a bit.

Rick shook his head, holding his hand out dismissively. "No, go right ahead."

"Thanks," He nodded at the couple, "I'll take it outside."

He walked over to the sliding glass door and slipped out to the patio.

XXXXXXX

Carol washed her hands and ran her fingers through her short hair as she stood at the sink in the bathroom. She was smiling to herself, as the wheels spun inside her head. She had never felt more inspired now than she had in a very long time. Oh, wouldn't Ed have shit his pants had he known what kind of stuff she was up to the last two years of their marriage. The hours she had spent in secret and the lengths she went to hide her pursuits from him. Smirking, she turned the water off, dried her hands and was about to open the door when she heard a voice drift in through the open window between the toilet and sink.

"Ya sure you ain't startin' shit 'fore ya git on the phone, Merle? Can't see how ya stand all that noise. Every time ya call me it sounds like a fuckin' riot goin' on."

It was Daryl's voice, she figured his brother must have rung him, and she heard one of the patio chairs scrape along the concrete. Moving to the window, she pulled the curtain back just a little and gazed out. The hunter's back was to her and he had his phone pressed up to his ear as he sat back in the chair. She nibbled on her bottom lip, she was about to back away from the window, - Carol wasn't one to eavesdrop on purpose - but the four beers she had imbibed was enticing her to just take pause and stay for a minute – Just to see how he got along with his brother on the phone.

"Jus' had supper... Steak. . . . Nah, ain't had no time ta hunt me a deer was beef. . . Huh uh, no, why ain't ya called me on Sunday. . . Yeah, I'ma be rentin' that attic I told ya 'bout. . . . Why d'you care ya ain't never ask'd how my day went." He scoffed, but it sounded good-naturally. "My day was okay, were on the phone all fuckin' mornin'. . . . . Was on the phone with other plant directors. . . ain't no secretary, dumbass, ya gonna keep yappin' ya gums or ya gonna listen?. . . . Ran inta T-Dog. . . See, this is why I ain't gonna tell ya shit 'bout what I do. . .Whatever, Merle. . . Then I's came up here ta Buckhead an' that's where's I am now. . . . Yeah, that's right, was gonna com' up on Saturday but Dog an' I we's gonna share the U-Haul he's rentin' an' move in on Friday. . . .Ain't gonna tell ya if ya keep talkin' shit. . . Told ya, ain't sayin' it again, brother. . .Yeah, she – it ain't gonna be an issue, don't even matter."

Carol made a face at that, curious to what the other side of the conversation sounded like.

"Don't know, Merle, I ain't gonna ask. . . Huh - ? . . . Carol, her name is Carol, yeah; she's rentin' to me monthly. . . .Best shut the hell up, Merle, good lord, it ain't gonna be like that . . . Yeah - ? . . . I don't wanna hear ya filth no more, I'ma hang up. . . .If I tell ya will ya shut the fuck up an' stop askin' me? . . . ."

Carol pressed her face closer to the window, trying to hear him better. His voice had become very low and he was chewing on his thumbnail again.

". . . Jus' a bit shorter than me maybe a couple o' inches or so, thin I guess, nice smile an' her eyes are…nice - an' . . What - ? . . . I dunno Merle I weren't lookin'. . .Shut up. . . I didn't notice. . . Fuckin' - , yeah, they's nice, okay? That what ya wanna hear? I ain't gonna talk no more 'bout it coss she's inside an' it ain't right. . .Nah, I'm o'er at the real estate lady's house an' we all jus' had supper, an' they's waitin' on me ta git done talkin' to your incarcerated ass. . . Huh? It's short, I dunno, one'a them whatsit do's - it's nice. . . . I s'ppose, coss it is, dipshit, dunno what the hell else ya want me ta say 'bout it - . . . She ain't a fuckin' rug muncher jackass, she were married once before. . ."

Carol pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh. She got the feeling that Daryl's brother got off on giving him a hard time, baiting him and working him up into a frenzy. Merle for some reason was giving him a hard time about her and the conversation was humorous to Carol, and the notion to be offended or upset didn't even come to her. Daryl's voice was strained, as though he was uncomfortable and this seemed funny to her for some reason and she yearned to go out and say it was okay. She also wondered what types of women he had dated or been with and what they looked like. He had said he wasn't seeing anyone but – he was very good-looking, surely he didn't have problems finding women, did he? Didn't men normally enjoy talking about the attributes of women? She also wondered what Daryl had said he hadn't looked at but then said 'they's nice' and caused his deep drawl to flood with embarrassment.

"Nah, no way Merle, I ain't even gonna consider that an' I ain't gonna . . . I ain't like you an' I ain't never gonna be – Shit brother. . . How's 'bout I com' an' see ya next Sunday? Ya ain't so far away now an' ya closer ta git to from here. . . I has the weekends off. . . You were the one that left Merle, not me. . . I stayed, didn't I? I ain't gonna do you like ya did me, I'ma com' an' see ya, so don't even say bullshit like that ta me. . . Yeah, I kno's. . . M'kay, git ya ass to count. . . Me too, bye brother…"

Carol watched Daryl end the call and frowned as his shoulders slumped down when he sagged low in the chair.

She jumped back when there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Carol, you okay in there?"

It was Lori.

Pulling the door open she flung herself out of the bathroom and shut the door behind her, leaning on it once it was closed. They stared at one another for a second and Lori's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms.

"You were listening to Daryl talk to his brother on the phone through the window!" The woman grinned. "Hear anything good?"

"Shhhhh," Carol put her finger to Lori's mouth. "Maybe I was, or maybe I was sick and threw up my dinner and didn't hear a thing and have no idea what you're talking about." She smiled, nodding her head slowly.

"Ahhh, okay, I see. . . You poor thing, you must feel awful…" Lori played along, and then moved Carol aside. "My turn – and, I'm thinking," she pushed the bathroom door open, "that another beer will make you feel better. So, go get us both another one."

"Isn't it getting late?"

Lori shook her head. "It's not even nine yet, and Rick just decided it was a good time to put that buck hunting game on Carl's Wii. I'm pretty sure he and Daryl are gonna be busy for awhile."

Carol chuckled softly, and agreed. "I'll be in the kitchen."

XXXXXXXX

"Shit, this controller sucks." Lori said, after the buck she had been hunting on the game was scared off by the blast of her bullet which missed the animal by a mile.

"You weren't even aiming it, baby. You gotta line your shot up first before you pull the trigger." Rick was saying from the couch, laughing as Lori pouted and handed the controller to Carol. "Perhaps you're one too many sheets to the wind."

Once Carol had found her way back into the kitchen she had looked at the beer in the fridge and frowned. There were only a few left so she stood there, chewing on her lip for a moment, before opening the uppermost cupboard above the kitchen sink and pulling down the first bottle she could reach. Over the years she had learned that when the Grimes' said 'help yourself to whatever you want' that they truly meant it. She no longer asked if it was okay to get a glass of water or if she could have a handful of Cheetos or an extra slice of pie after dinner. So she didn't think twice about helping herself to – Whiskey – she noted, as she pulled out a small glass down from a cupboard. Thinking about it, she took out another cup and made her and Lori both a whiskey and coke. It was Game Night after all, the one day a week they got together and had dinner and then either sat around and chatted and played cards or a board game. The day varied from week to week, corresponding with whatever day Rick and Lori both had off the following day. They usually all shared a twelve pack of beer and sometimes they drank harder liquor. Carol decided it was a night that called for the harder stuff. Just because.

"Pfft, I've had two _very_ weak drinks and I doubt they've impaired my faculties so bad that I can't kill some stupid video game deer. It's that controller." She pointed to the controller Carol now held in her hand as she started tracking the same deer Lori had failed to claim.

They were playing on teams, Rick and Daryl against Lori and Carol.

Rick pulled his wife down to the couch with him, "Okay sweetheart, it's the controller."

Carol smirked and then switched her attention to the game. The Grimes had a very big flat screen television that she was very jealous of. She wanted one really bad. Sighing, she moved the controller and pointed it at what she thought was a clue that the buck had left behind as it had wandered through the woods of the game.

"Ya gonna waste ya chance to catch it if ya do that."

She stopped before she pressed the button. Turning, she saw Daryl watching the TV screen. "Oh yeah," she arched her brow.

"Yep," He nodded, "That bent up branch is too low for the buck ta fuck it up like that, ya should be payin' attention to the ground. Scoot them leaves 'round, an' see what's under 'em."

"Hey, whose team are you on, man?" Rick was saying jokingly as Carol turned back to the game and moved the pointer on the screen away from the branch and to the leaves on the ground. She shook her head, he'd been right; the hoof marks were uncovered and showed the buck veering off into another direction.

"No, let him help her! She was about to lose the trail! This game is so stupid. I woulda went for the branch too." Lori commented, laughing as she finished her drink. "Another, Carol?"

"Yeah, make it a double," She smiled, following the new path. "Cause I'm gonna get this deer and I'll need a strong drink to celebrate with."

"So you know your tracks, don't you Daryl, out in the woods?" Rick asked, taking a draw from his beer.

"Uh huh, yeah," He nodded.

"What do you hunt?" He asked, watching the other man.

"Deer, rabbits, snakes, wild boars, wild turkeys for Thanksgiving, sometimes quail, but mostly just squirrels," Carol responded, glancing at Rick. "But never ducks."

Rick chuckled, looking at Carol's serious face then back to the smirking redneck that was turning a light shade of crimson. "Never ducks, huh?"

"Nah, ain't never wanted to eat Donald or Daffy." Daryl said, smirking a bit and scratching his face, as though trying to rub away the heat. "Past few years I ain't done as much huntin' as I'd liked ta."

Carol giggled as Lori came back into the room. "I just recited from memory all the game Daryl likes to hunt." She laughed, taking her drink and sipping at it deeply before setting it down by the armchair she'd been sitting at since they came in from the patio.

"Guess that means you was paying attention when he told you." The woman giggled at Carol, sitting back down next to her husband. "Carol, you're drunk."

"Oh! The buck! See! I found him!" Carol ignored the comment about being drunk. She lifted the controller, and attempted to aim it at the deer but found herself too giggly to do so.

"All that shakin' an' rustlin' the bush 'round ya ain't helpin' ya none." Daryl said, smirking at her.

"Okay, I'm trying…" Carol took aim and missed it. The game gave you three chances before the deer was scared and would run away. "Awww, shit."

"Concentrate," Lori commented, "We can't let the guys beat us."

She aimed again, and missed again.

"You're right, this controller is bad news." Carol frowned, putting her hands on her hips. "I give up."

"Nah, don't give up." Daryl stood, and looked at Rick. "We are three bucks ahead o' the ladies."

Rick nodded, "I'll let this slide, but next time, I'm taking you in and booking you for assisting the enemy."

Daryl shook his head and went to stand beside Carol. "Try it again, but this time, take ya aim more carefully. Here…"

Carol looked at him and nodded, wondering what he was going to do and then watched as he reached for her arm. He stood behind her a bit and lifted her arm, his fingers gently curled around her wrist. "Ya gotta relax, an' take deep breaths. Find ya Zen, take ya aim, an' pull the trigger."

He let her arm go and she left it there, focusing her eyes on the deer on the screen. She wished Daryl would put his warm hand around her again, it really did help her concentrate – yes, that's what it was. It was just a video game, but it was frustrating. She never had taken much of an interest in them just for this reason. They were hard. For a moment she wondered if she could handle a real gun, and what it would feel like to pull a real trigger. Ed had hunted, and she had never liked the fact that he hunted for sport and she hated his gun collection with a fiery passion but deep down inside she knew it was the fact she had been frightened to death that one day he would point one at her and find her eyes staring down a dark, hollow barrel.

So, she concentrated on the pointer and took several deep inhalations in and out, very slowly. Carol found her relaxing breaths interrupted however as that woodsy, masculine scent of the man beside her invaded her nose quite abruptly. Instead of letting it distract her, and oh how she wanted to linger on how good he smelled, she pretended she were in the woods, and allowed his scent to take her there. She closed her eyes and breathed him in some more, and when she opened her lids, she didn't think about anything and just pushed the control button. It worked, the buck on the game had fallen victim to her aim and the game switched to a screen where the character had it strung up and how many points the deer was worth.

"I did it! Easy as cake," She smirked and when she went to look at the hunter she saw he was already positioned back into his seat at the end of the couch.

"Woo-hooo," Lori exclaimed, poking her husband on the ass as he stood up for his turn again. "We got one, sucka!"

"One Lori, you guys got one. We have three, about to have five cause you know Daryl and I are both gonna get one, not track the same one like you two did." The sheriff laughed at his wife's pout. "Poor baby."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Yeah, yeah, you can track a visually programmed deer but I betcha can't track a real one like Daryl can."

Carol shook her head at her friends, tuned them out and plopped down into her chair beside the end of the couch where Daryl was at. "So, who did teach you all about hunting and tracking and being out in the woods?"

He became stiff and shifted in his seat but cleared his throat and answered her in that soft, low drawl. "My old man, mostly. Merle taught me a little but it was my pa who took me out when I were a boy. But when I were 'bout eleven or twelve or so, I went out on my own an' taught myself the rest."

"I've never spent much time in the woods and if I do, I stay on the path. I'm afraid I'll get lost." Carol picked her glass up and took a drink, closing her eyes and making a grunting sound at the burn warming her stomach up.

Daryl chuckled, seeming to relax once again. "Shit, I were lost once in the woods for nine days when I were 'bout eight or so, and I was no worse for wear, 'cept my itchy ass an' when I found my way back, went inside an' made myself a sandwich."

Carol opened her eyes back up and stared at him. "Itchy ass?"

"Uh huh, I weren't so knowledgeable o' the different kinds o' poisonous plants yet an' I ended up – ya kno', usin' poison oak…"

Putting her hand up to her mouth Carol burst out in a fit of giggles. "I don't mean to laugh but – you poor thing, I bet that was – uncomfortable to say the very least."

"Weren't too pleasant, thas for damn sure." He shook his head, ducking it a bit and staring up at her through his lashes. "Ya think my itchy ass story is funny, huh?"

Carol stopped giggling, and composed herself, downing the rest of the whiskey – which she noticed had almost zero coke in it – and put the glass down. She met his eyes and pressed her lips together, nodding languidly. "Yes, yes I do think your itchy ass story is funny."

Daryl narrowed his eyes, so narrow and squinty already and sucked on the inside of his cheek, watching her. And ever so gently, a soft smile graced his mouth. "Good, coss it were."

"Daryl, your turn my friend," Rick was saying, grinning at his wife who was pouting once again at the fact the men were another deer ahead of them.

"Gonna show ya ladies how it done – again - best pay attention coss I ain't helpin' y'all out no more." The hunter stood, finished off the rest of the beer Carol noticed he'd been nursing for quite some time and took the controller from Rick. "Gonna git this sumbitch in one shot."

"Show off," Rick said, sitting down again.

"You kno' it," Daryl responded, smirking at Officer Friendly before turning back to the game. He flicked his wrist here and there, tracking the buck.

"You sure you never played this game before?" Carol asked, watching him move around with ease.

"Yep," He shrugged. "Never had no game system growin' up an' so's I never bothered gittin' one when I were grown. Ain't got no kids so's I ain't never had no reason ta buy one. Played a Game Station 2 or som' shit o'er at som' tweaker friend o' Merle's a few years back, but thas 'bout it."

"Play Station," Rick said. "Carl has them all…"

"And you never got into the drugs like your brother?" Lori asked, watching him too.

"Lori –..." Rick started, but the redneck cut him off.

"'S okay," Daryl said, not turning around but the tone of his voice became weary. "I ain't never got inta the shit coss I saw what it made him like when he were on som'thin'… Merle's 'bout a dozen or so years older than me an' it made an impression when I were a boy seein' him - how he acted, so – nah, stayed away from the bullshit he did – but, I did hang 'round him an' ran 'round with som' the same folks he did. I were still jus' a kid, 'bout sixteen or seventeen. I got the job at the plant with him but when he got hisself fired an' high-tailed outta town I became my own person, or as much o' my own person as I could become."

Carol listened to him, and heard the undertones of shame the inflections held. He sounded the way she felt when she thought about the things she had put up with for so long because she didn't think she deserved any better. Standing, she reached for her glass, and took Lori's and went to make them another drink, thinking about a small boy lost in the woods and a teenager who ran around with his brother and his tweaker friends because perhaps he had had none of his own.

XXXXXXX

"Were'd th' wishkey go?" Lori slurred, as she crawled along the floor to check under the couch and Carol sat upright on her legs, bent over and checked under the coffee table.

The two women gave up on the video and opted instead to turn Monopoly into a drinking game. They had brought out the big bottle of Canadian Whiskey and a couple of shot glasses. The more they drank, the more reasons they both came up with for the other to take a shot. Passing go, knocking over the others game piece, going to jail, buying property…playing the actual game was mostly forgotten to see how drunk they could make one another. Daryl and Rick continued tracking and hunting virtual bucks, both having finished the last two beers quite some time ago, as they both watched the two women become more and more intoxicated as each shot was consumed.

"Here it issss," Carol sat up, perhaps a little too fast and held on to her head with one hand and grasped the whiskey in the other. "Wen you fell over yer foot knocked it over an' it rolled under th' table Lori. Thas a direct violation of th' – um, of th' code for – um, abusin' th' wishkey. Punishment – 'nuther shot…gimme th' wishkey, I'll pour it…"

Rick and Daryl shared an amused stare as they witnessed the two drunk women roll around and come together side by side at the coffee table, both leaning heavily on the other.

"Gimme th' wishkey, Lori, I'm gonna pour yer shot now…" Carol fumbled for the two shot glasses, fully intent on taking one too.

"Uhhhggg, don't wanna…you can have my mine…I can't…" Lori was grasping both sides of her head, her elbows propped up on the table with her long dark hair covering both sides of her face.

"Well, were ish it?" Carol started to move again, to find it.

"Carol, darling, it's in your hand." Rick said as he turned off the game and then the television. "Want help pouring it?" He asked as she ungracefully dropped the lid on the floor and struggled to reach for it.

Carol giggled, finally adjusting her shit-faced sight upon the bottleneck still held tightly in her fist. "Oh! Nope, nope I kin do it…Yep, 'ere goes nuthin'…"

Rick shook his head, and moved to help Carol pour one more shot. She threw it back, wiped her mouth and looked at the other shot glass. "Were'd th' wishkey'n tha' one go too?"

"You drank it already, remember?"

Rick took the bottle and found the cap on the carpet and recapped it securely.

"Oh…" She nodded, and then started glancing around the room. "Were did Daryl go? Did 'e go an' not say goodbye me?"

XXXXXXXXX

Watching Carol and Lori drink had been amusing to the hunter and he had to admit that Carol could handle her liquor pretty fucking good. Once Rick had shut the game off and went over to help Carol pour her last drink, he took a quick look at his watch and was surprised to see that it was just past one in the morning. Sighing, he went into the downstairs bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet above the sink. He took down a small bottle of Tylenol, and took out two caplets. He returned the pill bottle to its place and then went into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water.

Just as he was coming back into the living room, he heard Carol say, "Were did Daryl go? Did 'e go an' not say goodbye me?"

"Nah, ya ain't rid o' me yet - gotcha som'thin' else ta drink an' som'thin' ta take with it." Kneeling down next to the coffee table, he pushed the water toward her and opened his hand and showed her the two pills. "Can ya take 'em?"

"Yeahhhh…" Carol held her hand out and he dropped them on her open palm. She tossed them back into her mouth, reached for the water and drank them down quickly. "Thanks, Daryl…"

He nodded and stood back up.

"I'm gonna take Lori and put her in bed," He went to his wife who was groaning uncomfortably and helped her up to the couch where she face planted into the cushions and moaned some more. "Can you find your way to the guest room, Carol or you gonna need help?"

"I'ma take off." Daryl said, walking backwards to the door as he nodded at Rick, and lifted his hand in farewell to Carol.

"No, no, no, no," The woman was saying, bracing her hands on the coffee table and pushing herself up into a wobbly but standing position. "Can't shay, got that – thing wit' wha's 'er face'n th' mornin' an' – You, you kin take me home." She slurred, pointing a finger at the redneck.

Rick nodded, looking at Daryl then back to Carol. "I can drop you off first thing. Carl's normally up at the crack of dawn so you're more than welcome to stay, you know that."

"Wanna go home," She said, rubbing her temples before she looked at Daryl again. "Can you take me home?"

He shrugged, looking at Rick. "Ain't drunk, so's I s'ppose I could." He frowned and shook his head. "Got the bike outside though, ya kno' if she ever rid on one 'fore?"

Carol had left quickly in the direction of the bathroom after she had asked him if he could take her home.

"I'm not sure if she has or not. I bet she's puking up them pills…" Rick chuckled, arching his brow and rubbed his face in thought. "You have a helmet?"

"Jus' the one, an' I'ma hav' her wear it."

Rick nodded, and smirked a bit. "They drink like this about once a month, and it can get pretty crazy at times. Carol, she's come a long way since we met her. She was like a tiny mouse the first year or so we slowly lured her in. I forget sometimes how – timid and quiet she was back then. Did she tell you about her ex-husband, Ed?"

Daryl nodded, "Said he weren't a nice man."

The officer shook his head, a stony evince darkening his eyes. "Just between us, because I trust you to keep it to yourself and I think you should be aware of it… I did some research on him and their divorce and what I found, made my blood run cold and boil at the same time."

Rick glanced at his wife. "Lori doesn't even know what I discovered in the various police reports."

"Ain't non' o' my business…" Daryl started, but Rick held his hand out.

"You need to know, Daryl, if you're gonna be living with her. She has triggers, stuff that sets off her bad memories…"

Sighing, he licked his lips and nodded for the other man to continue.

"Ed terrorized her for seventeen years," He started, "He beat her until her bones broke, over and over, and got off on breaking freshly healed ones. He deprived her of food, starving her for days at a time. - _He made her eat her cat, one she had since high school_ – cooked her dinner one night – said the dinner reflected how good of a wife she was to him, and she thought he was trying to change so she ate the food, and when she had ate it all, he asked her tell him what it tasted like and how wonderful it was…I read that in the divorce files."

Daryl grunted like an angry bull his eyes flashing dangerously, "You fuckin' serious?"

Rick nodded. "Every kind of thing you can think of pertaining to mental abuse and sexual abuse, Ed did it to her more than once."

"Motherfuck…" Daryl's hands fisted up as a rush of raw, livid rage tore through him. "Rape?"

"Yeah," Rick said thickly, "But, the reason I'm telling you all this is so you know but it's something else too – I saw something tonight I never saw Carol do before. Shane use to come and join us sometimes and you don't know him that good but he's kind of a flirt, considers himself a real ladies' man… Well, he'd lay it on thick for her, and one night he touched her, just on the waist to help her out the patio door and she just came undone."

The hunter cursed under his breath, remembering how he had grabbed her wrist earlier. "Fuck…I done fuckin' grabbed her hand tonight…"

"No, you didn't grab her Daryl, you hardly touched her – See, I was watching you two. I've been watching her interact with you all night. Since before you placed a foot inside the door tonight," The man paused, then went on. "She won't even hug me most times, in fact, my son, Carl, is the only male I've ever seen her hug here in five years – I can get her to give me a hug on my birthday and that's about it. She don't let men touch her."

"An' I fuckin' did which is odd coss I don't -" Daryl stopped and sighed, shaking his head.

"That's just it, you touched her and she just," Rick made a face of awe, lifting his shoulders in bewilderment. "She just nodded along and damn if she didn't look disappointed when you let her wrist go." Rick folded his arms and shook his head. "Before you got here, when you two were texting, it was like watching someone else, like it wasn't Carol at all. She was grinning, acting _giddily_ nervous – You make her feel secure, it what it is. I've seen it a hundred times. When a victim of extreme abuse finds someone they feel safe with, after years of being scared, they can heal – mend that place inside that was ripped up. And now she wants to get on the back of your motorcycle? She may be three sheets to the wind but I've seen Carol drunk before and she usually knows what's going on around her, she isn't one to black out and not know what she's doing or what's happening. Daryl, whatever this friendship you two have or are gonna have, that's growing, it's good for her…and it's gonna be good for you too."

Daryl just looked at him, sucking on his lips.

"I've seen the touch trigger, and she became quiet and distant one night when me and Lori got into an argument but that's really all I've seen… Just wanted you to be aware because I don't know how things are for her when she's alone or how it will be with someone else living there - but if you see her acting funny or frightened – just, be gentle - and you can always call Lori or me if things are bad and you don't know what to do – anytime, day or night." Rick clapped Daryl on the shoulder, giving him a nod before he stepped away again. "But she's strong and she has a will to survive or she woulda never made it out of that marriage as good as she did. I think people around here underestimate our Carol."

"Thanks for tellin' me all o' that." Daryl looked the man in the eyes. "I ain't gonna let no one fuck with her an' I ain't never gonna let no one hurt her ever again."

"I know you won't." Rick said firmly. "Carol is part of our family. I trust very few outsiders with my family members. And frankly…you kinda fit right in with us…with her."

Before Daryl could respond, Carol came out from the bathroom and they both looked at each other, finalizing the understanding they had come to and then watched as Carol stumbled into the living room. She had wet down her hair and cleaned her face up. Her eyes were puffy, and he wondered if she might have puked her guts out.

"Oh god," She groaned, going to pick up her purse and pausing before lifting it and hooking it over her elbow. "I barfed. A lot. Why'd you guys let me drink so much."

"Hey, I may be a man upholding the law during the day but on my off time I sure as hell am not inclined to ruin someone's good time." Rick said, his hands out in a gesture of obviousness.

Still groaning, she moved over to Daryl and tugged on his jacket sleeve, looking at him pathetically. "Take me home now?"

"Y'all go on now; I gotta get Lori on to bed. Carl will be up before we know it." Rick walked with them to the front door. "Daryl, it was good having you over again. We do this once a week and when you move into the manor you're more than welcome to always consider yourself invited, okay?"

The two men shook hands. "Sounds good," He said, nodding.

"So long Carol," Rick said, giving Daryl a pointed stare as the woman wrapped her arm around his, waved at Rick and pulled the hunter out the door.

"Bye bye, Rick..." She mumbled, as she smiled tiredly and closed the door behind them.

XXXXXXXX

Carol wished she could go back inside Rick's house and rinse her mouth out one more time. The last time she'd gotten so sick had been about six months ago and she and Lori had both swore off drinking for the rest of their lives. Of course that hadn't happened and she giggled as she thought about it, trying to walk down the steps without crushing the man who was practically supporting her entire weight.

"Ya ever been on the back o' a bike 'fore?"

She heard Daryl ask her some kind of question in that deep soothing drawl of his as she found herself coming to a stop beside him, next to the motorcycle. Carol was pretty much glued to his side and her cheek stuck to his jacket as she turned her head to look up at him a bit. "I sure like how you're not so much taller than me." She smiled, forgetting the man had asked her a question.

He shook his head, smiling softly. "Ya ever been on a bike?"

"Me? No, no – never," She shook her head too fast, groaning. "But I think I can figure out the basics though."

She frowned, feeling like utter shit.

"Ya gonna git sick again?"

"Huh-uh, just take me home…" She murmured, pressing her face into his jacket before moving away from him.

Carol put the strap of her purse over her shoulder and placed her hand on a curved silver bar on the back of the bike to steady herself. Daryl turned and faced her, a big black thing in his hands. His helmet.

"Ya gotta put this on, okay?"

Nodding, she closed her eyes and he put it over her head and pressed it down into place. When she opened her eyes, he was swinging his leg over the machine.

"Git on," He said, looking over his shoulder at her.

Swinging her leg a tad clumsily, she ended up smashing her covered face against his back, between his shoulders, falling into him.

"I'm sorry." She said, pushing away and looking down to find purchase for her feet on the passenger pedals.

"No big deal," He responded, and then started up the engine, bumping up the kickstand and straightening the bike.

"Oh! That's powerful," Carol giggled, not really talking to him but speaking to herself, willing to do anything to try and forget how shitty her stomach was feeling.

Once her feet were secure, she sighed, and waited for him to go. After a few minutes, he turned and gave her a long stare.

"We ain't got all night, ya gonna hold on or what?" He quirked the corner of his mouth and turned back around.

Feeling her cheeks heat up, not in embarrassment but – something – she wasn't entirely sure, Carol wrapped her arms around his waist. Almost the second she slid her arms around him Daryl revved the throttle and took off down the street. Her grip tightened, and she pressed the side of her covered face between his shoulders and closed her eyes hard. A particularly strong burst of power driving them forward had Carol fisting her hands into his jacket and had her thighs unconsciously press more forcefully against his hips. A bizarre notion had her wanting to wrap her legs completely around him just so she knew she wouldn't fall off. But no, he wouldn't let her fall off, no, not with these muscles. Opening her eyes, she giggled, knowing she was going to mentally kick her own ass in the morning for thinking these things, and really, she hadn't thought about much at all, had she? Only the fact that as she had pushed away from his body when she had smashed her face into his back she had used the backs of his arms to move herself and boy oh boy, was he strong. His arms felt like steel, in fact, he seemed a little tense, actually.

The scenery flew by them but nothing could be seen, and Carol hoped she could enjoy another ride on Daryl's bike with the sun on her back and the wind in her face. Closing her eyes again inside the helmet, she relaxed her grip on his waist and the hold her thighs had on his hips and legs. As she rested there, her fingers splayed on his jacket and she pressed her hands into him as she tried to scoot her bottom closer and away from what she feared was the edge of the seat. And he was so warm and she wanted to feel some of his heat because frankly, the air was a bit chilly. Soon her hands were making patterns; her fingers were tapping unconsciously and the ride would never be long enough for her. And as she listened to the rumbling of the motorcycle and moved her hands around the front of his jacket, Carol experienced a sense of contentment she had never known in her whole life. Slowly, as though her ruminations were mud trickling down an incline, she realized she was happy. Contentment was good, it was nice, and it was comfortable but being in a state of happiness – it just wasn't the same. And both together? It was unchartered wilderness for Carol. All she knew that was ever since that early evening when Daryl Dixon had called her cell phone out of the blue and asked to look at her attic, she just hadn't been the same and doubted she ever would be again.

Thinking back to earlier in the night and all the things that were discussed she recalled when Daryl had asked how much her house had cost. Money had always been an issue in her life. When she was a child her parents never had much and spent most of their time grooming her older sister and paying her way through expenses. She'd gotten a job as soon as she could, but just like the tiny bits of earnings from babysitting or mowing a lawn here or there for a neighbor, her cash always seemed to disappear into someone else's hand. When she'd met Ed, she had been working in a diner as she worked her way through college. Once they were married, that money too, seemed to vanish right before her eyes and soon Ed had made her quit her job and school with promises to make all her dreams come true so she'd never have to work. The thing was, she had wanted to work, in fact, and she'd wanted to teach High School English. Her accomplishments were severed as though they'd never existed though the day she'd said, 'I Do', to Ed Peletier.

So when Daryl had asked such an innocuous question, one she would have been curious about too with so much conversation revolving around it, she had gotten scared and it had nothing to do with him - really. Carol would never have to worry about funds again if she managed it well and spent it right – and of course, kept working and producing the means which practically sucked it in. So many thoughts sprinted past her brain. Would he judge her, was the one that hit her the hardest. And if he did, how would he look at it? Not her job, per say, but the money she made. Knowing it was ridiculous to even consider but she couldn't stand the idea of Daryl seeing her differently, from however he saw her now. Would he feel uncomfortable or threatened by her monetary independence? And of course he wouldn't, didn't even ponder it, as he shared how buying his trailer had made him feel. That man, she knew, could handle a strong, independent woman and he most certainly didn't feel threatened – she had seen the admiration and respect in his blue, oh so blue eyes. And why did she care so much? He was just gonna be her roommate and possible friend, right? Why did it matter if…

Carol was jolted out of her thoughts as the bike came to a stop and she looked up to see her house looming in front of her. The ride was over much too soon for her liking. Sighing, she slid her hands away from him and climbed off the bike. Tugging the helmet off, she handed it to the hunter, who took it from her.

"Thanks for bringing me home…just think; this time next week, you'll be living here too." She smiled, taking in his face in the dark midnight gloam.

"Sure will be…gonna be nice, ya kno', livin' here in all this fresh air an' shit." He looked at her before he smiled.

"You have such a long drive…I have rooms made up, you could stay if you wanted to." She offered.

He shook his head. "Nah, Eye must think I left him behind an' I ain't gotta be no where 'til 'bout noon."

"Okay." Carol got her keys out. "Ride carefully."

Daryl snorted, and pulled his helmet over his head. "Always do…stay safe."

He nodded at her, and seemed to watch her as she walked up the front steps and to the veranda. Unlocking the door and pushing it open, several lights came on in the foyer and as she turned to him, she lifted her hand. Daryl made a gesture back, and maneuvered the bike around before he took off down the drive. She stood and watched him go, until she couldn't see him any longer. Flicking her eyes along the darkness, and the lingering dust from his departure, she faced the door and went inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

She sighed as she stood in the foyer, in that happy content state of mind, biting her lip and muttering to the empty house. "Nope – never gonna be the same again."

~Hi! :D I'm not sure if I've been responding to reviews correctly so I'm going to answer a few here… Yes, Since T-Dog has been introduced he will remain a strong fixture within the story. Blake is not a bad guy in this he does show up and I've tried to put a different spin on him… Michonne will show up again and so will a few more not yet introduced. I'm so glad you're enjoying the ducks! xD Both Carol and Daryl's pasts will be explored more in upcoming chapters, abuse and neglect, I've tried to bring new things into it and not be redundant. Yes, there is smut to come and be had and be done! xD I have a few fun things I can't wait to get to that I have thought of as the story's been written. As to how long it will be… abundant and extensive. xD

I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for every review and every kind word, makes me feel good that you're enjoying my writing. Tell me what you thought of this chapter! ^_^


	6. Dixon Fixin's

I do NOT own The Walking Dead.

Chapter Six

Dixon Fixin's

"Just look at her Beth – waddling around town like some Keeper of the Fowls, some queen mallard-y monarch, - Queen Ducktoria, ha! - tottering down the street like she's been granted a morning away from Duckingham Palace – just the sight of her pisses me off, makes me wanna smash her mousy mug in with a brick - as if anyone would give two shits if she's here or not, strutting around like royalty just because she lives in a mansion surrounded by trees – it's not as safe as she thinks, let me tell you - ." Karen was standing outside the Buck Skin smoking a cigarette as she washed the front windows, chatting with a doe-eyed Beth Greene who mostly nodded and smiled when the older woman spoke. "She's up to something. I can tell – She never comes into town this early in the morning. See her! She's looking around to see if anyone's watching her. Well guess what your Duckness, I'm watching you… That's right, and she knows it too – she see's us looking at her."

Beth shrugged, and turned slightly to watch Carol Peletier walk inside the general store on the opposite side of the street. "Maybe she's outta something she needs in the store – like toothpaste or shampoo or yarn or possibly kitty litter. I think that's why people go in places like that."

Coming from anyone else, this statement might have sounded rude or sarcastic, but the light, high-toned quality of the blonde's naturally oblivious modulations gave her the characteristics of someone who was perpetually and incessantly curious about everything around them.

"Or maybe she just wanted to get out for a bit. Want me to go and ask her for you?" Beth turned back to the other woman. "I want to say hello to Irma too before I take off with daddy and Glenn."

"Glenn is an unaspiring hack and I think it's funny your sister got stuck with him. She had so much promise too, but now she'll just end up another overweight housewife, cooking chow mein every night for supper - smacking grubby little hands away from the wok." Rolling her eyes, she blew out a cloud of smoke. "Stupid…"

Karen ignored the ashtray next to the door of the bar, and flicked her half smoked cigarette away as she insulted Glenn. Beth found this too, very curious, and wondered why Karen would yell and shout at so many people, doing the same thing she just did, and threaten to ban them from Buck Skin for not using the available ashtray when she herself disregarded it so nonchalantly.

Beth frowned, "He's not a hack. Maggie loves him."

"Whatever, but yeah, go and see what she's up to, Beth, I wanna know why she's out of her comfort zone and why she didn't come in for Karaoke yesterday." Karen waved her away. "And find out _exactly_ when Daryl Dixon's moving into her house."

"Okay," Beth gave her the thumbs up and after glancing down one side of the street and then the other, the young woman jogged across the road to the other side. She headed straight to Horvath General Store and when she pushed open the door, an old-fashioned bell rang out. Irma and Dale owned the shop and Beth worked there part-time when she wasn't helping her father, Hershel, out at his veterinarian clinic. Patricia, who was the wife of Otis, ran the store on the weekends. Otis ran the Greene's farm and had been working as her daddy's number one farm hand far back as Beth could remember. Maggie claimed she could remember Otis taking her for rides on the tractor when she was just a tiny thing, so maybe he'd been there since Maggie was just a child.

Irma was behind the counter this morning and Beth gave her a quick wave as she came through the door.

"Hey Irma," She called out, smiling brightly at the older woman.

"Morning Beth, dear," Irma looked up from her crossword puzzle, returning the smile and then went back to her puzzles.

Walking fast, Beth glanced down each aisle as she strolled along the front of the store. Carol had heard Beth call out to Irma when the younger woman had walked in and as Carol filled up her hand basket with various packets of Kool-Aid Beth stopped at the front of the aisle and turned abruptly, grinning as she trotted down to her.

"Morning, Beth," Carol smiled without looking at her, "I saw you and Karen outside, she send you to spy on me again?"

"Uh-huh," Beth nodded, "She's wants to know what you're up to, what you're buying, why you didn't come in for karaoke last night and when Daryl's moving into your attic."

Carol made a face, and sighed. "Why does she wanna know when Daryl's moving in? That doesn't concern her at all."

"Well if you think about it nothing you do should concern her at all but she seems to think it does so…" Beth smiled tightly. "Everything everybody does she thinks is her business just you more so than others."

Carol counted out several different flavors as she asked, "Is Karen interested in Daryl?"

The other girl shrugged. "I'm not sure yet, but something funny happened at the bar on Tuesday I guess when I was up singing. Karen mentioned that space above her garage, you know the one where she keeps her cello and plays it on the nights she gets really wasted, saying something about she could rent it out to him and Maggie said Daryl got real mad. And when Karen said she wanted to show it to him after closing time, he asked her if she deaf and stupid for not hearing the first time when he said he wasn't interested. I guess Daryl was still pretty mad when he left too."

Carol had shifted her frame to face the girl and had a funny smile on her face. "Deaf and stupid, he said that to her?"

"Yeah, that's what Maggie said he asked her. Funny, huh," Beth giggled and then turned her attention to the items on the shelves and took down several packets. "I love Kool-Aid. Are you having a party?"

Carol shook her head. "No, no party."

"Ohhh," Beth pressed her lips together. "What's the Kool-Aid for?"

"It's for Daryl, actually. I asked him what he liked to drink, you know, soda, lemonade, things like that. He said he enjoyed Kool-Aid and I didn't have any so, here I am." Carol smiled at Beth, picking out more flavors.

Grinning, Beth dropped the packages she had in her hand into Carol's basket.

"Oh! My momma wanted to know if you could bring over a couple dozen eggs or so, the more the better she said. We're making deviled eggs for daddy's birthday next weekend and he just loves your duck eggs." Beth followed Carol down the aisle. "It's next Saturday and you should come."

"Sure, no problem, I can bring them around during the week sometime." They left the aisle and Carol turned down to where the breakfast cereal, oat meal and packaged baked goods were. "I ordinarily devote my weekends for work but I'll see if I can make some time to come to the party."

"I really hope you do, Carol." Beth sighed, "You fit in here, no matter what Karen says or tries to do… Just because you didn't grow up here like all of us did, doesn't mean you don't belong, because you do. Your best friend is the sheriff's wife and it's not fair that Karen makes you so uncomfortable that you can't even make friends with anyone else because everyone here likes you, you know. I hate playing her games but she thinks I'm just stupid _enough_ to not know the difference."

"You're not stupid Beth, and I doubt Karen thinks you are. You're a sweet person, and you have that – quality about you and she trusts you to keep what she says to you to yourself." Carol's voice was light and a bit serious, keeping her gaze on Beth as she spoke.

Beth grinned. "Little does she know?"

"Exactly," Carol winked at the younger woman then became thoughtful as she perused the different cereals. "I have to say though, Beth, that it isn't just Karen… I find her animosity laughable and the things she comes up with very amusing but I've never -, no, I take that back – I lost a bit of my – social relation abilities when it comes to other people, but I'm working on that and I think people are gonna be surprised. And just so you know, I do feel like I fit in. Coming here to Buckhead was the easiest decision I ever made. Not counting the fact that my decision was based on my throwing a dart on a map of Georgia."

"That's funny, Carol," Beth paused, "I think things worked out good for you and it'll only get better from here on out."

Carol started moving again after picking out four different kinds of cereal and headed to the front of the store. "You think so?"

"Uh-huh, I do." Beth looked down and started to grin but as she averted her eyes upwards, they went wide and she pointed to a display. "Spring Harrison! I just love her to pieces, ohmigosh! This is her new book that just came out!"

Carol followed her over and picked up one of the paperback novels. "You read this kinda stuff? Romance novels?"

"Oh yes, I've been reading her books since I was fourteen or so but I probably shouldn't have considering they can be a bit spicy. She's been around for a long time, since before I was born. My mom has all her books. When each new one comes out we have to wait forever…" Beth held one of the books to her chest, over her heart and sighed dramatically. "They call her the Queen of Romance. Her writing is beautiful and her sentences are like lyrics to a love song."

Carol looked at the title. "_What Times Song Cannot Tell Us_ . . . .? Is it any good?"

The young blonde nodded, and sighed again. "Her best yet I've heard, it's been on the best sellers list for over six weeks now." Beth grabbed up another copy. "I'm buying these. Irma must have just got them in and put them out or I woulda bought two already. I should just start preordering them so I can have them delivered to the house. It takes so long for us to get them and I hate waiting so long to read 'em when they come out."

Nodding, Carol put the book back and made a face. "I don't read romance novels. They're just too corny and too mushy for my tastes."

"You should read one of Spring's books. They're not your average loves stories. She writes about ordinary women finding themselves and overcoming adversity and finding love and not giving up and surviving… The heroines aren't perfectly flawless either. They have scars and disabilities, illness and things that real women have and real stuff they go through… The men in the books are the same way… That's why she's the best." Beth shrugged, and grinned to Carol. "You ever wanna read one just to see, let me know and you can borrow my favorite one."

"Maybe I will someday. Which one is your favorite?" Carol asked as she started moving toward Irma to check out.

"_Pockets Full of Clay_," Beth giggled, "It was the first one of hers I read. It's about a girl in her first year of high school after moving to a new town. When she was just a tiny thing, she was burned really badly in a house fire and most of her body's covered in burn scars. She lost her mama in the fire and she carries little figurines of clay her mama made because her mama was an artist… It's the best book I've ever read. Of course it's a story about first love and it follows her through school and then when she's an adult. I won't tell you how it goes in case you ever wanna read it."

"It sounds like a very nice story…" Carol smiled at her. "Maybe Spring's romance books aren't as corny as the ones I've attempted to read before."

Beth grinned happily in return and then waved at Irma as they stopped.

Irma set aside her crossword puzzle, and gave out an amused chortle seeing Beth with two copies of the Spring Harrison books. "I knew you'd snag up a couple of those, Bethy." Shaking her head, Irma took the basket on the counter and starting ringing the items up, and as she grinned at Carol, she asked, "This all you need, Carol?"

"Actually," Carol nibbled on her lips in thought. "I need twenty pounds of sugar – all white this time, no brown."

"I'll have Glenn run it out to you later on today."

"Thank-you, Irma." Carol paid for her Kool-Aid, sugar and two boxes of Cocoa Pebbles, and one Cheerios, and one Shredded Wheat.

"How's your webpage for your cookies coming along?" Irma asked, as she handed Carol her change.

"Great, its boasted sales so much I'm having trouble keeping up with all my orders." Carol grabbed the brown paper bag as Irma pushed it to her. "Glenn is a genius. He should really start up a webpage design business. He has a knack for it."

"We keep telling him that but he insists he wants to keep going for his veterinarian degree and take over Daddy's clinic in a few years when he retires." Beth said, paying for her books. "He says it's just a hobby though."

Carol laughed. "I never knew my hobby would take off so well." She picked up her bag. "And Irma, I'll send Glenn back with those cookies you wanted."

The older woman nodded. "They sell faster than any name brand on the shelves. When you become a famous dessert chef I can tell everyone you started off right here in Buckhead, in my humble little general store."

"Oh, Irma, you're too sweet," Carol smiled at the tiny woman and moved away from the counter. Waving goodbye, she started to the door. Carol grinned to herself suddenly, and turned back around.

"Oh, and Beth," She said, tilting her head. "Tell my well-wisher that I was in here ordering tarot cards, ranting about my horoscope and the end of the world, and that my spiritual advisor forbade me to leave my house until this morning - and as for Daryl Dixon, he's moving into _my_ house this afternoon – around two."

Beth gave her a huge grin. "I'll let her know."

And as Carol turned away again and headed out the door, something mischievous flickered inside her eyes and Beth noted it with a smirk of clarity that no one would have believed she was capable of. Beth surmised that something big was on the horizon and that Carol truly was busting out of her shell with a vast gust of strength.

The young blonde picked up the two books and tucked them away into her purse hanging from her shoulder.

"I gotta run, Irma, me and daddy and Glenn are gonna go check on Mr. Davies horses soon, so I'll see you on Monday, Irma, and tell Dale I said hello."

"I will sweetie, you have a good weekend." Irma waved, and Beth waved back before making her way outside.

Karen had long since returned inside the Buck Skin so after crossing the street carefully, she found herself sitting up at the bar reciting back everything she had discovered.

"What did you find out?" Karen was asking her, putting down a soda in front of Beth.

"Oh, it sure was strange. I think you were right about Carol being a fortune teller." Beth poked a straw out of a paper wrapping and put it in her drink before continuing. "She was ordering tarot cards from some catalogue, and telling me and Irma about our horoscopes, going on and on about spirit advisors and the secrets of the universe. I guess that's why she didn't leave her house yesterday to come out for karaoke night, they said she couldn't leave or something bad would happen to her. Something about the end of the world, I'm not sure, because it all sounded like gibberish to me."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Karen scoffed, and planted both hands on the counter to lean in closer in disbelief. "Fucking crackpot," she muttered.

"No, that's what she said, want me to go find her and make sure?"

Karen laughed derisively. "I knew she was a nut job. Did you ask her about Dixon?"

Beth nodded. "He's moving in this afternoon."

Karen scoffed, and shook her head. "He's gonna move in, realize how insane she is, and feel like a total jackass for being such a dick to me that night he was in here. And you know what I'm gonna do?"

"What," Beth's eyes lit up.

"I'm gonna make that bozo redneck crazy for me. He's defensive and accusatory because he just _doesn't know_ how unhinged she really is." Karen scoffed again. "And when he finds out, and he will, that she probably escaped from some looney bin up north, he'll come crawling to me telling me how right I was and how much he's sorry for not believing me about it in the first place. And when that happens I'm gonna pounce. I'm gonna fuck his brains out, I'm gonna screw his hillbilly ass so hard he'll move right in with me and out of her attic."

"You think so?" Beth smiled.

"I know so."

"How?"

Karen shrugged, moving down the counter and taking out a pretzel rod from a plastic container she bit into it. "Daryl Dixon is just like every other shit poor hick who got outta the sticks and into a life better than what they had. A few nice words, some well said compliments and I'll have him eating out of my hand. He's gorgeous and I'm gorgeous, and beautiful people always come together. The only competition I might have is you. Everyone else? Pfft, poster children for dog chow commercials. There're only so many eligible bachelors that roll into this town and with Dixon running his own plant? I bet he's loaded. That was the mistake I made with Tyreese. He was too far up his dead father's ass to give a shit about me and what I wanted."

"You don't gotta worry about me." Beth shook her head, and made a face. "But I can't wait to see what happens."

Tossing the end of the pretzel rod into a waste basket, the dark haired woman grinned malevolently. "Good, because, Beth, I'd hate to have to put you in your place and teach you not to toy in the grown-ups playpen because babydoll, you're barely out of your Pampers."

"I'm twenty-two, Karen." Beth smiled again though and shrugged, "But I agree, some people just don't learn, do they?"

Karen shook her head, and looked to the front of the bar. "No they don't. That's why their superiors have to knock 'em down a few pegs every so often, which I am always happy to do."

Karen turned her charm on when a group of morning breakfast regulars came in and Beth giggled to herself, averting her eyes to the countertop. Karen was delusional and Beth was almost ashamed at how much she enjoyed egging the woman on. If there was one thing that entertained her more than her Spring Harrison romance novels, it was seeing Karen get all riled up and charge down a war path that was destined to fail. She'd set her sights on Glenn too when he had moved to town with his mother and sisters down from Michigan just two years before. It had ended badly for Karen but good for her sister Maggie. Now with her malicious gaze cast upon Dixon, well, Beth didn't see an outcome in Karen's favor this time either. Daryl seemed different and from what he'd displayed of his character already, she had a feeling that once he moved into Carol's attic he might not ever move out of it or Carol's life. Beth knew one thing was for sure though – She couldn't wait to watch as things unfolded and played out, and she couldn't wait for the look on Karen's face when it didn't perform as she intended it to go. She may know the outcome and the story might be boringly familiar, just another happenstance retold a different way, but Beth didn't care, because she loved the expectation, she loved the adventure and watching it evolve was still half the fun no matter if the conclusion was always the same. She was a stickler for romance that was for sure.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"You weren't foolin' around, were you?" T-Dog was saying as he jumped down from the back of the U-Haul. Landing on his feet with a grunt, he turned and pulled down the heavy door to lock it up.

"Foolin' 'bout what?" Daryl asked, with a cigarette dangling between his lips as he hopped up to sit on the tailgate of his truck.

"That you didn't have much shit to move." T-Dog walked over and leaned against Daryl's truck, taking out a cigarette for himself from a pack inside his front shirt pocket.

The U-Haul was parked in front of Daryl's trailer and the two men had just finished loading it up with about a dozen boxes, ten garbage bags full of clothes, a large tent with a duffle full of gear and a tent cot, a gas grill, his television securely repackaged back into its original box and his single bedspring and mattress, and two lamps. The Triumph was loaded up in the bed of the pick-up along with a few miscellaneous items; Eye's litter box, his cat perch tree and Daryl's crossbow.

The bowman shrugged, "Was mor'n I thought there was gon'be. Ain't gonna seem like much though when we git it up in that attic. So much space, ya gonna shit when ya see it – Don't kno' what the hell I'ma fill it up with."

"How about a new bed for starters," T-Dog shook his head. "How long you have that thing?"

Daryl chuckled. "If it ain't broke, so's they say…"

"True, true, I hear ya; I hear what you're sayin'." T-Dog took a drag and sighed as he let the smoke out of his lungs. "So, tell me about your landlady, what's her name again?"

"Carol." He said, "She's uh, she's nice."

"What she do?"

He shrugged. "Don't kno', ain't asked. Guess its som' kinda mystery ta people. When I first heard 'bout her attic I were sittin' there jus' listenin' ta this woman called Karen runnin' her mouth sayin' Carol were some kinda fortune teller. The others sittin' 'round didn't seem ta kno' either."

"You mean that tall brunette who runs the bar?" Dog asked, turning to face the hunter a bit more.

"Yeah, her," Daryl spit on the ground as though to make a point. "I ain't like her very much if'n ya can't tell. Ask'd me if I wanted ta go home with her the other night ta hav' a look at a room she has o'er her garage."

T-Dog whistled low. "She's damn fine. Long legs, long dark hair and I sure as fuck wouldn't say no to her if she asked me home with her."

"Fuckin' bitch is what she is an' she got on my bad side right away with all the shit comin' out her mouth 'bout Carol." Daryl shrugged. "Don't give a shit less what she look like, fugly ass skank as far as I'm concerned."

T-Dog snickered, "Damn, dawg, she did get on your bad side, didn't she? What did she say about your landlady to get you goin'?"

"Bunch o' shit, mostly how old an' ugly she is an' it really pissed me the fuck off. Hadn't even met Carol yet an' I were mad." Daryl scowled in the sunshine, looking at his friend. "I hear she like dark meat. If ya can git past what a bitch she is, I say's go for it."

"Nah, too high maintenance for this brotha," The man shook his head and then gave Daryl a knowing smirk. "She's hot though, Carol isn't she?" he asked slyly, grinning at his redneck friend.

Daryl smirked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fuckin' Merle were houndin' me 'bout the same damn thing, wantin' ta kno' how big her tits were an' if they jiggle like Jell-O or water balloons."

"The hell did you tell him to make him shut up?"

He shrugged. "Didn't say nothin' like he wanted ta know but I said they's nice to make him shut up 'bout 'em."

"Well, which one is it? There's a precise deviation between the two you know." T-Dog guffawed, bending over as he roared in laugher. "Fuckin' Merle Dixon, what else he have to say about it?"

"Shit if I kno' what they jiggle," Daryl scowled at his friend as he thought of all the things his brother had said on the phone about it. "She ain't ugly, fuckin' far from it. She's real easy on the eyes, reckon I ain't care either way as it is; I jus' wanted ta rent her attic. An' when I mentioned the rent Merle ask'd if I were gonna slip her som' Dixon Fixin's to git it lowered. I stopped listenin' to him after he said that."

The man beside him started up again in roaring hysterics, slapping Daryl on the arm. "'Dixon Fixin's'?"

"Shut the hell up, T, thas stupid shit Merle say's, ain't me." Daryl did crack an amused smirk though, and shook his head. "He also wants me ta ask Carol to fill out a visitation form so's she can com' up with me on visits. Ain't no way thas gonna happen. What with the shit he say's an' shit I know he's gonna say if I done brought her with me, like hell I'ma even ask her. He weren't even intrest'd 'til I told him what she look like. He likes 'em young an' blonde anyhow, so's I don't know why he asked."

"How old is she?" Dog asked as his chuckles ended and he straightened back up and fell back against the truck again.

"Forty-three, but I guess her birthday is comin' up."

T-Dog made an appreciative articulation in this throat. "Matured, just like a fine wine my friend, only tastier with age."

"Nah, she ain't much older than me an' I'm happy 'bout that. She ain't no ditzy girl in her twenties an' that's a good thing. Can't handle the stupid ones like Merle can. Don't kno' why he's so concerned with it in the first damn place. She ain't nothin' ta me 'cept a hand ta pass a rental check over so's I hav' a place ta live. We're gonna be friends though, I'm thinkin'." Daryl chuckled softly, flicking away his cigarette butt. "I ain't ever know'd no one like her. She were textin' me last night askin' 'bout things I liked so she could git 'em 'fore I git's moved in. Told her she didn't hav' ta but she insisted, weren't gonna take no for an answer. So's I tell's her I like Kool-Aid an' Cocoa Pebbles, – kid's stuff, shit I been havin' since I were little an' she didn't say a word 'bout it. Jus' said it'd be in the pantry when I get's there."

"Kids stuff? Pfft, I'm a grown ass man and I still eat Capt'n Crunch with berries." T-Dog shook his head. "Sounds like Carol wants' you to feel welcome. That is a good thing, my friend."

"Figured she'd laugh but she didn't." The hunter shrugged dismissively, looking down at the ground then over to the dark skinned man. "That kinda weird or is it jus' me?"

T-Dog shook his head, waved his hand around, and then looked at him and gave Daryl a frank stare. "Nah, some women, they just understand, brah, the ones that get us. They don't try to change us none, they just go with it, acceptance and all that dumb shit that comes with experience, and life and living." He took one last drag and tossed the butt out into the street. "Or you just meet the one that see's you and you see them and that's it, you're hit brah, it's the end of the road… They know and you know, and sometimes everyone knows but the two people that should know."

Daryl couldn't think of a reply so he sort of nodded his head before he jumped down from the tailgate. He wasn't even sure if he knew what they were even talking about anymore. It was frustrating, how so many people saw things he didn't, and no matter what kind of crazy bullshit his brother said or did, Merle was the one most able to bring perspective into his life. It felt at times that he was just wandering aimlessly and unperceptively, unable to grasp his surroundings and seize them, instead only reaching out blindly grabbing for wisps of tangible shelter only to have it vaporize before him, just smoke slipping past his fingertips. Shelter for whatever reason, or from something unseen, he wasn't sure. An entire life had already passed him by. Where he'd been shunned for being who he was and then accepted, almost overnight, however only to a point where Daryl could pretend they didn't still whisper about him in secret, that the townsfolk had better things to concern themselves about yet they never seemed to embrace those better things. And still they caged him, kept him at a distance yet projected him morsels of neighborly finger waves and mouthfuls of forced jocularity where both he and the other person were so uncomfortably congenial that an onlooker might presume they were stuck in a rather ho-hum travesty. And now everyone in this new town was offering him shoulder slaps and good food accompanied with friendly conversation that wasn't forced or uncomfortable but amicable and easy. Even his friendship with T-Dog seemed to be evolving. It was dismaying and it was welcomed, simultaneously. Yet in the very center of all these new circumstances was Carol. An auspicious beacon of – something.

"Daryl," T-Dog pushed away from the truck and flipped up the tailgate. "You like Carol, don't you?"

Shrugging, the hunter leaned over the side of the truck and pulled on the canvass straps securing the bike in place. "She's okay; we seem ta git along real good. Only woman I can ever 'member tolerating'."

"It's more than that though, dawg, I mean, you heard that Karen running her mouth and it pissed you off. I've known you for over a decade and you ain't never cared about shit like that, especially about some broad you didn't even know." Theodore wiped his brow from the heat and looked to the other man. "I'm just saying."

Sighing, the redneck sucked on his lips. "She felt like a friend I ain't seen for a spell, som'one I've knowed for way longer than I hav', an' when she were trash talkin' it felt personal."

T-Dog knew that was all he was going to get out of the private man and he nodded his head, grinning again. "Well c'mon man, I wanna meet this woman who got you all shook up and get the fuck outta this shit hole. Jim and Morales are meeting us at my place. Shouldn't take much time with the four of us to get my shit loaded up."

Daryl nodded. "I'ma go'n git Eye an' put him in the cab with me an' then I'll follow behind ya."

T-Dog gave a curt nod as he walked off to the front of the big truck, and turned to climb up through the door.

Once Daryl was inside he scooped his cat up into his arms and took a moment to reminisce. He'd been just about twenty-five years old when he'd purchased the big long, rectangular box, just a single wide with a small entrance platform included with a pale green plastic awning and an iron wrought fence around it. The back patio was an add-on he'd built on his own, and so was the extra side door that led out to it. The siding had been redone a few years back and the carpet had been replaced just before Merle had moved in. Daryl didn't consider himself to be much of a cook so the stove hadn't been used a whole hell of a lot over the years. In truth, the one who cooked was Merle. Both brothers were talented with a grill, both preferring charcoal or wood over gas, but it was Daryl who had mastered the all-encompassing skill of grilling just about anything. So as the two brothers learned to live with each other once again, this time each being an adult, Merle had taken control of the kitchen. Daryl wouldn't miss much about his trailer, not even a tiny bit of nothing. Most of his time there had been spent alone and he got so use to it that he'd never considered that he didn't like it. The two years with his brother didn't count nor did the people coming in and out, the tweakers and skanks, the impromptu parties and the neighbors having pissy attitudes, summoning the cops, and then the next day apologies – Daryl had been sick of it all by the time his brother had been arrested.

Moving over to the coffee table the man reached down and grabbed hold of a leather strap attached to the black canvass case holding his laptop. He put it over his shoulder and stepped back, shaking his head. It really didn't feel like home anymore and as he scoffed, taking a set of keys out of his pocket, he bent over and let the cat in his arms jump down and into a carrier placed on the couch.

"Ya kno' what's goin' on, don'tcha Eye," Daryl closed the cat door and with his computer hanging down at his side, he picked the carrier up. "Let's git the fuck outta here, ol' boy."

Leaving was easy. He walked out the screen door, pulled the inner wood door closed and locked it up. Shoving the keys back into his pocket, he went to his truck and opened the passenger side door. The carrier was placed on the seat and he tucked the laptop underneath it. Climbing in over his cat, he plopped down in the driver's seat, reached over and slammed the door shut, pounded his fist on the horn and turned the engine. The old beast rumbled to life as T-Dog singled back with a honk of his own and put the U-Haul into drive. It was funny, he'd lived there for so many years and there wasn't a single person in the trailer park he even wanted to say goodbye to. The hunter shifted the clutch and pulled out to the street, and began driving away from his past and into his future, and this thought made him smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I have to start on my next project in a couple of weeks so I won't be making many more of these." Carol was saying to Carl as the boy came running into the kitchen where she was sitting with Lori, drinking coffee and dunking sugar cookies in the dark brew, eating quietly as they chatted.

"Why can't you bake cookies all the time, Aunt Carol?" The boy asked, wiping away the crumbs on his lips after he shoved half of the monster cooking into his mouth.

She smiled and reached out to poke him on his nose, "Because when I take breaks from making them for other people and bake them just sometimes then they're special, just for us to enjoy."

Carl giggled, reaching into a plastic container depicting a colorful cartoon cat wearing a baker's hat, tiny holes for its ear to poke out of, holding a tray of cookies with fancy lettering stating the name of the cookies: _Itsy Bitsy's Homemade Sugar Cookies. _

"Cause it's just a hobby, right?" He asked, tilting his head curiously.

"That's right." She agreed, reaching out to ruffle up his shaggy dark hair, the color and thickness so much like his mothers, and poked him on the nose again. "Just a hobby."

"Is your room clean yet, Carl?" Lori inquired, her dark eyebrows lifting as she watched him. "Or are you just messing around in there with your Hot Wheels?"

"No," He drawled out in annoyance, rolling his eyes. "I just wanted some-..."

She cut him off. "Don't roll your eyes at me, mister; you wanna play over at Lizzie and Mika's today?"

The boy nodded, "Yeah, I wanna take my zombie game with me cause Lizzie and Mika just got a new X-Box 360 and never played a zombie game before and Mr. Samuels said it was okay."

"Until your room is clean I can guarantee you aren't going anywhere and you sass me again, you won't be playing that game for a week." Lori gave him a pointed glare.

"Okay mom," He sighed, and turned to leave.

"I love you, Carl."

The boy turned back and smiled, nodding his head. "Love you too, mom."

When he left, the dark haired woman sighed, shaking her head. "He's been acting out a lot. Talking back, to me and his father. I can't believe he's gonna be a teenager in just a few years. He already acts and behaves like one."

"I'm sure it's just a phase." Carol said, giving her friend a sympathetic expression.

"And that game of his?" Lori put her hand out, gesturing helplessly, "It's giving him nightmares which he says aren't nightmares but flashes of the zombies coming for real. It's messing with his head but Rick says everything's okay, that Carl just has an overactive imagination and that he'll grow out of it. This thing with zombies is becoming some kind of obsession and Rick just doesn't see it. It can't be healthy, can it?"

Carol made a face, pursing her lips. "I'm sure it's nothing, Lori. Kids come up with all kinds of funny things in their heads. The dreams are probably just the hours he spends in front of the game manifesting in his subconscious when he sleeps. I wouldn't let it upset you so much."

"You're right, it's just – I think he thinks it's real, that the monsters are real and I thought he knew the difference between make believe, pretend – whatever - and reality." The woman shook her head, and then sat up in her chair. "But maybe he does, at least I hope he does."

"Sweetie, I'm sure he knows. He's only ten – Rick is right, he'll grow out of it and soon he'll be more interested in girls and before you know it, he'll be bringing one home to meet mommy and daddy and all his talk about zombies and monsters will be a funny story you can tell his girlfriend about to embarrass him with." Smiling reassuringly, Carol reached over and grasped Lori's hand. "Hey, I have an idea."

"What's that?" Lori squeezed her hand and smiled back.

"You should drive on over to my place after you drop Carl off at his friends house. We can make some lemonade, sit outside in the heat and when Daryl arrives around two we can watch him and his buddy T-Dog move his things into the attic." Carol arched her eyebrows, smiling big.

Lori pressed her lips together, perking up just a bit, and nodded. "I could go for that. I like watching men do manly man things."

"Yeah," Carol said, lifting her eyebrows even higher. "That's the spirit."

"Definitely," she took her hand back and reached for a cookie. "I need some kind of thrill around this damn shithole."

The newly indited enthusiasm upon the woman's face died however almost as fast as it had come and Lori sighed dramatically.

"I can't." She brought her hand up to her cheek and leaned against it heavily. "I'm meeting with Maggie around noon to scope out some bridal gowns over in some little dress shop in Griffin. I told her I'd go with since Beth is going outta town today with Herschel and Glenn."

Carol shrugged. "Bring her along."

Lori raised her brows this time, in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Why not, I mean," She made a thoughtful face. "This whole thing with Daryl getting riled up about Karen's bad opinions of me and Dale and Irma always being so nice and -, and Beth even – I ran into her at the store before I came over and we had an interesting conversation to say the least, and now I'm starting to realize I can't let that woman keep me from trying to make friends with people who obviously have tried to be my friend already. I know I have to work on my social skills…so, what the hell, today's as good a day as any to start."

"What brought all this on? Daryl?" Lori's hand slipped off her face and landed loudly on the surface of the tabletop.

She shrugged again. "Maybe, I don't know. From a certain perspective I do seem like a hermit, or a crazy duck lady who never goes anywhere. I think it's time to break the mold. And inviting Maggie Greene over is a good start by bringing the chisel down to crack it."

Lori grinned, "Good for you, Carol. Don't let that bitch dictate your life."

Carol laughed, "When Beth came in the store this morning when I was shopping for a few things I needed, and I asked her if Karen had sent her to spy on me again and when she said yes, it just kinda hit me. I'm not gonna put up with it anymore and I'm not gonna let her – I'm not gonna let her make me think no one wants me around." She picked up her coffee cup and held it in her hand, thinking for a moment before she spoke again. "I survived my marriage from Ed, so I know I can see my way through this. It sounds ridiculous but – I was scared Karen was right. I didn't grow up here and I didn't - or haven't, I should say, exactly tried to mix in, and you hear something so many times you kinda start to believe it so I figured everyone thought the way she did and was only nice to my face to be polite in public or because I'm friends with you… but when Daryl came into town and disregarded everything she said, making him just wanna meet me even more, I knew I couldn't let my fear of what I thought people were thinking of me run my life anymore. So, I'm going to start getting to know people better and let them get to know me too."

Lori had been watching her best friend intently, nodding and moving her hands around to different positions, from holding them up as though in prayer near her mouth, to placing them together on the table.

"And is Daryl gonna be someone you're gonna get to know better?" She asked finally once Carol had stopped speaking.

"Well, he'll be living with me, so yes, I suppose he will be." She smiled though, worrying her bottom lip. "I think in my head I've already imagined us being best friends. Is that…weird of me to think of?"

Lori shook her head. "No, not all, not even a bit. Rick is my best friend; he started out that way before we were even married."

"Well, you knew Rick was going to be your husband, you must have known deep down inside. I just want to be Daryl's friend; I don't want to marry him." Carol cringed, "I don't even want him to stay in my house longer than he intends to stay. I just want his friendship, or give him mine for everything he's done for me since he blew into Buckhead."

The other woman scoffed in amusement. "Oh, you mean how he's unintentionally convinced you that no one hates you or listens to a damn word Karen says? How he's totally annihilated every characteristic you've portrayed so decisively for the past five years? How he's completely changed your mind about everything I've been trying to convince you of for years and years now, but you just ignored?"

Carol set her cold coffee down and stammered, grasping for words. "Well, it's not – It wasn't just, I mean – He didn't – I never ignored you, I just – It's everything, really, I think…"

Lori burst out in giggles. "Come on Carol, you can admit it to me. I know exactly what you're feeling. Guys just – they have a knack for putting things so plainly in perspective they don't even know how lucky they are to have the ability to do it." She shook her head, still chuckling, "Rick does it for me every single day and I love him more and more for it. We need that from our men, you know, that validation that even though we go crazy over things they find girly like weddings and baby showers or crying over a sad commercial, that they still see us as they always have. That they still love us no matter what kind of day we've had, what we look like at any given time, or the crazy shit that comes out of our mouths... Daryl gave you something simple and uncomplicated to see from a view that I could never offer you, no matter how much I tried or wanted to give it to you. So don't try and tell me that you don't know exactly what finally opened your eyes to what I've been trying to make you see for a long time."

"Daryl's not my man, and I don't need any kind of validation that I can act or look or talk however I want, from a guy, just to know he still gives a crap about me because I really don't care one way or another." Carol shrugged, looking down, and then casting her blue eyes back to her friend consideringly. "But… I do get what you're saying… and unfortunately, whatever kind of romantic notions I ever had died the first time Ed ever laid his fists on me. So if you're hinting, ever so subtly, that there's a chance for something between Daryl and myself, just get it out of your head. I just wanna be his friend because I don't think he's had many in his life."

Lori gave her a skeptical stare, but sighed and held her hands out in surrender. "Fine, you just want a friendship with him, I get that, I really do. Friendship with a man is way different that a friendship with a woman and I think everyone needs that in their lives. I just don't think – look, if you saw the way you and Daryl interact like Rick and I have, maybe you wouldn't be so quick to say there wasn't a chance."

Carol narrowed her eyes and glared, but there was a hint of interest saying she was paying attention to the words being said to her.

"You have to admit it will be nice to have him there with you to offer whatever kind of male perspective you've never really had before and with how he's so attentive, he watched you that whole night Carol, when we were drinking. He had this… look on his face, like he was trying to anticipate what you needed or wanted – so you can't say it won't be a pleasant change for you, so, I would also consider, if I were you, to keep him around for as long as you can."

Carol rolled her eyes, but now had a big smile on her face. "Okay, yes, it will be nice and I am looking forward to him being there. I don't know, I just – I just want to be his friend, his best friend because I've never had a man for a friend before." She sighed, and then offered a tiny shrug, almost in self-consciousness. "I'm not interested in anything more than that, Lori. My marriage to Ed ruined whatever kind of hope I ever had in love and romance. I'm damaged goods, and men don't want women like that."

Lori suppressed the urge to argue, to tell her she was so, so wrong. So instead she just shook her head and sighed. "You didn't lose all your hope in love and romance though, did you Carol?"

Carol crossed her arms and tilted her head up and away in mock ire. "I refuse to answer that or acknowledge what you've said." She stood suddenly and took her cold coffee to the sink to pour it out. "I've lost hope for those sentiments for myself and that's just how it is."

"Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that Carol. Because someday, whether it's Daryl Dixon from the back hills of Georgia or some Joe Schmoe from Albuquerque, New Mexico, you're going to be in it so hard you won't even remember when it happened because it'll feel like it was always there and a part of your life." Lori stood then too, and took her coffee cup to the sink, took both mugs and started rinsing them out. "That's how it always ends up being. You never know it hits you until it's too late and you're already drowning in the fog that made you blind to it in the first place. But when that fogs starts to dissipate… watch out, that's all I can say about it."

"In what, so hard," She asked, turning with her arms folding as she leaned against the counter next to the sink.

"In love," the dark haired woman answered seriously, washing out the two coffee mugs. "Someone will make you see that you're not damaged and they're gonna love you just as hard as you love them and love you just the way you are."

There wasn't a chance for Carol to retort because at that moment, little Carl Grimes came running into the kitchen with a proud grin on his face.

"My rooms clean, mom and I did it good, come and see!" He turned on his heel just as fast as he arrived and headed back to his room.

"Okay baby, I'm right behind you." Lori called out, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Think about what I said, okay? Because sweetie, you're worth everything you think you aren't."

Carol nodded, and followed her friend out into the living room. "So, I'll see you and Maggie then, in a bit?" She asked, picking up her purse and getting out her car keys. "If you can get her to come with you?"

"Oh, I'm sure getting her there won't be an issue. Maggie has been wondering if she'd ever get a chance to see the inside of the manor and has wanted to get to know you better for a long while now. She'll jump at the opportunity, trust me." Lori gave Carol a hug. "See you soon honey."

"Yep, in a bit," she replied.

Lori waved her off as she opened the door, and then turned and started up the stairs to inspect her son's room.

It was going to be an interesting day that was for sure.


End file.
